Ghost Ship II: Second Chances
by Hekasha
Summary: A mentally unstable young woman with nothing to lose embarks on what she thinks will be a relaxing cruise, but she soon finds herself involved in a deadly plot of murder, seduction and trickery. R&R, please!
1. Ashe

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this story that is mentioned in the movie "Ghost Ship." This is a cause of great sadness, as I would give my soul to own Jack Ferriman :D Don't sue me. Pretty please.

Hey! My summary got chopped off! The full summary is: A mentally unstable young woman embarks on what she thinks will be a relaxing cruise, but she soon finds herself involved in a deadly plot of murder, seduction and trickery – and an evil so great she may have to give her very soul to stop it.

Hi there, this my first try at a fic, and I'm kinda nervous. The first couple of chapters of this story are going to mainly be the main characters' pasts and long, boring descriptions that will come in handy later. If you want to skip right to the action, then by all means do. It should start in about Chapter 4. But I personally think you should read the first bit. Then review, review, review! This is my first time, I need to know if it's any good! Constructive criticism please, no flames. :D Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Ashe Garner inched along the gangplank with the rest of the cruise passengers, her ticket in hand and her suitcase dragging along behind her, wishing she were anywhere but here. She stared around at the goings-on in the harbor around her. Fishing boats rolled as their crews unloaded the catch of that morning. Private yachts danced in the gentle swells, their masts tracing huge arcs in the clear blue Alaskan sky, awaiting visits from their owners. They, too, were eager to shed the ropes that tied them to the docks and gain once more the glorious freedom of the open sea.

Ashe surveyed the brilliant, sparkling Arctic water, breathing in the fresh, salty air. Seagulls wheeled overhead, calling noisily down to their brethren perched on the huge pylons of the docks. Ashe sighed. She loved the ocean. It had been too long since she had seen it. Having lived on Vancouver Island, British Columbia, almost her whole life, the water was her element. It had a way of calming her, of restoring her peace of mind, that nowhere else did. Despite her rough twenty-four years of life, Ashe had always found solace staring out at the sea; had always found her answers. She hoped this voyage would provide her with the much-needed answers she was looking for.

Ashe was born in Victoria, British Columbia, to a twenty-year-old single mother. Ashe's father had run off before Ashe was born, and she had never met him. Her mother had been uneducated, and had not been able to hold a job for very long. She and Ashe had been constantly moving, and Ashe had gone to many different schools during her early childhood before they had finally found a small apartment outside of Victoria, near China Beach. The beach had become Ashe's childhood hideaway, and she would walk there, at times almost daily, to be alone and to walk the beach, or simply sit and stare at the beautiful Pacific landscape and daydream.

Ashe had always been an outcast. She was terribly shy and self-conscious, and made a habit of speaking hardly at all. This and the fact that she wore grubby, second hand clothing, was scrawny and undernourished, had thick, unkempt hair, and had unmistakably plain features had made her a bit of an oddball. All through primary school, Ashe had been made fun of constantly, and made no effort to make friends. She had, in fact, never been encouraged to make friends. Her mother had up to three jobs at one time just to keep a roof over their heads, and when she did get time off, she would go out to the pub to smoke and drink with her friends. She hardly ever saw Ashe. Consequently, Ashe had almost always been alone. She would go out and wander the beach, collecting shells, wading into the cold water, (her mother didn't allow her to swim when she wasn't with her, and it didn't occur to Ashe until later that she probably wouldn't have noticed if Ashe had come home soaking wet.) and contemplating life.

When Ashe started high school, she threw her effort into her schoolwork. She achieved top marks in all her subjects, and spent her breaks in the library alone. This only furthered her reputation as a weirdo, and most people stayed away from her. When people did pretend to be her friend, it was usually because they wanted Ashe to do their homework for them. Ashe started to regard friends as a nuisance; is that what a friend was? How could people stand having friends if all they ever did was use you to cheat on tests, and then wait until you were almost out of earshot before laughing at your naiveté?

Ashe was always aware of what people said about her – she was a nerd, a loser, a poor kid, a loner, and later, a challenge. Boys would pretend to date her, just to see who would be the first one to get the "ice chick" in bed. Ashe had lost her virginity when she was sixteen, in the broom closet at her high school, and the boy had walked out laughing at her, going to collect his bet money. That was the last time she let a male come anywhere within five feet of her.

As her body had developed, she was no longer quite as scrawny as she used to be, but rather thin and lithe, and would have had lovely curves if she had had more to eat. Her hair, which has always been bushy and curly, straightened out, and with lots of brushing could almost be styled like the other girls', if she'd had the money to go to a stylist. Her grades were the highest of her class, and she began to take a liking to science. She dreamed of someday becoming a marine biologist, and spending her whole life beside the sea.

Throughout this all, Ashe could have rebelled. She could have taken up smoking or stealing, could have let her grades slip or run away from home. But Ashe wouldn't do it. She had never been taught to have a conscience, but she knew that she never wanted to be like her mother. Ashe wanted to make something of her life. She was a scientist at heart, and didn't believe in God or religion, but she did believe that good things came to people who tried hard. So she worked hard at her schoolwork, and was always civil and obliging to her classmates when they asked her for something. At home, she cooked and cleaned, and was always patient and polite to her mother. She was courteous to everyone, except those who gave her a reason to mistrust or dislike them. She got a job at a local café and saved all her earnings, so that when she turned sixteen, she was able to buy herself a cheap used car. She graduated with honors and a full scholarship to the University of Victoria, where she acquired her Bachelor of Sciences. She took a second job at a Marine Center, and paid off most of her student loans.

When Ashe was twenty-two years old, her mother died of lung cancer. Ashe sold their old apartment with all of her horrible childhood memories, and bought a cheap apartment in Cordova Bay, a five minute walk from the beach. During her final years at UVic, Ashe could often be seen sitting on the rocks, drawing or finishing an essay, or just staring out at the water that made her feel so at home. She made it a habit of avoiding people as much as possible, especially crowds. She got a desk job at the Marine Center, and quit her job at the café. She started to like people less and less, and soon gained a reputation as a bitchy, antisocial hermit, and she was well aware of the stories people told about her. She found she didn't care. When you've never felt real love, it's hard to open up, hard to feel at all. The more lonely and depressed Ashe got, the more she drove people away from her, until she became invisible – or so she thought. People didn't seem to notice her at all, which was just the way Ashe preferred it.

Now, two years later, Ashe stood on the cruise ship 'Arctic Pearl', the people around her happily chatting and laughing, not even seeming to care about the silent young woman in their midst. She suddenly wondered why the hell she had agreed to do this.

'God knows', she thought bitterly.


	2. The Arctic Pearl

Disclaimer: Still don't own it, although my birthday is coming up…sigh I'm not making any money out of writing this, so please refrain from suing a poor Canadian girl who's down on her luck….Anyway, here's the next chapter…

Chapter 2

She was almost there. The hatch to the interior of the ship was in sight, as was the uniformed crewmember smiling and checking peoples' tickets before welcoming them cheerfully aboard.

Ashe absentmindedly fiddled with her hair, which was pulled into a knot at the back of her head and held in place with chopsticks. Her appearance had changed since her high school days. Her hair no longer resembled a dead beaver lounging on her head, and instead fell to her below her shoulder blades in thick, dark brown waves. Her features were delicate and faintly pretty, her blue-gray eyes lined and shadowed with green powder, her lips painted a rosy pink. Her body was thin, and had finally achieved the gorgeous curves it had been striving for since she was fourteen, and she had long, slender legs. She wore a body-hugging deep green halter top and a short denim skirt, showing off her early summer tan, and strappy, height enhancing sandals that helped to boost her mere five foot three inches to a more acceptable height. She was actually very pretty, but to her own mind, she looked like a fat, scantily dressed old cow.

With a sigh of resignation, she reached the head of the line, and handed her ticket and papers over to the smiling crewman.

"Hello there, miss..." he checked her ticket, "Garner." He flashed her another smile. "Beautiful day, huh? A perfect day for the start of a voyage!" Ashe gave him a half smile in return and willed him to hurry up. She wanted to be on her own for a while after being around all these people for so long.

Apparently taking her hint, the man quickly rifled through her papers and then handed them back, along with a white key card.

"Everything seems to be in order," he said, his cheery smile never faltering, "Cabin number two twenty-eight's yours. Enjoy your stay on the 'Arctic Pearl', Miss Garner."

With a mumbled "Thanks", Ashe proceeded through the door onto the ship, stuffing her papers back into her purse.

A long corridor stretched to either side of her, with a stairwell right in front of her. A sign declared that the stairs leading up would take her to the first passenger deck, the stairs leading down would take her to cabins #1-300, and the floor she was on now held cabins 301-500, as well as a restaurant/bar called 'The Blue Oyster'.

Taking the descending stairs, Ashe followed the bronze signs posted along the corridors until she reached a door whose plaque proclaimed it to be 'Cabin 228'. She fumbled through her purse until she found her key card, and inserted it into the slot. The green light flashed at her, and she opened the door and stepped in, still dragging her suitcase behind her.

There was a short hall leading up to the bedroom area, with a door on each side. The door on the right was a closet with twenty or so hangers on the rod and a few shelves. The other door proved to be a bathroom, with the floor and walls all done in the same dark blue tile. There was a sink on one wall, with a mirrored cabinet over it. Behind a blue and green patterned shower curtain was a deep bathtub complete with a detachable shower nozzle. A toilet adorned the opposite wall, with a small round porthole above it. Standing on her tiptoes, she could see out of it to the docks.

Exiting the bathroom, Ashe wandered into the bedroom. The bed was against one wall, made of plain brass and covered with a red print bedspread. There was a small, dark wood bedside table sporting a red-shaded lamp and a digital clock radio. Its one drawer contained only an unused looking Bible. The walls were papered in a warm red and brown design, and a rather cheap looking fake chandelier hung from the ceiling. There was a dark wood desk on the opposite wall from the bed, on which rested a phone, another red-shaded lamp, and various lists of available room services. The desk's single drawer contained a notepad and pen, and a few brochures for the many restaurants and shops onboard. Below the drawer was a cabinet that held a combination safe and a well-stocked mini-bar. An upholstered chair was pulled up to the desk, and a matching loveseat adorned the wall between the desk and the bed. The silver frame above the loveseat held a picture of an old ship Ashe recognized as the _Titanic_.

'To make their passengers feel secure, I suppose,' Ashe thought with a snort of amusement.

She spent some time unpacking, then shook out her hair and prepared to go explore the three main passenger decks. Tucking her key card into her purse and slinging that over her shoulder, she resolved not to look as self-conscious as she felt. Striving for a confident air, she tilted up her chin and took a deep breath before opening the door of her cabin and stepping out. She turned to close it behind her and make sure it was locked. Taking another calming breath, she spun around and took a confident step forward – and slammed right into a fellow passenger.

The man let out a startled "Oof!" as he crashed against the opposite wall. Ashe was thrown back against her door, the handle digging painfully into her lower back. The man's two suitcases fell at her feet, knocking her right foot off its high heel. She went sprawling to the floor with a loud thud, her ankle throbbing with pain.

Flustered and blushing furiously she stood up, ignoring the pain, and started apologizing profusely, avoiding the man's eyes. He probably thought she was such a klutz! So much for confident, she thought as she blinked back embarrassed tears. She was such a loser! She braced herself for the man to start yelling at her, or even worse, laughing at her. She should have just stayed in her cabin alone!

She started when she felt something touch her shoulder. She jumped back, realizing that the man had grabbed her to help steady her. She backed against her door again. She didn't like men being this close to her.

He was studying her with an odd expression. He was tall, she noticed, and very good looking. He wore jeans and a plain blue tee-shirt that showed off his lean build. His hair was almost the same color as hers, cropped short but not too short. He had a sharp, aristocratic-looking face, and his mouth was curled into a gently enquiring smile which didn't quite reach his eyes. His eyes were the most prominent feature of his face, a startlingly bright blue-green whose gaze was sharp and penetrating. Ashe suddenly found herself locked in that gaze, as if it were pinning her down so that he could examine the deepest depths of her soul at his leisure.

Wrenching her ayes away from his, Ashe realized he was speaking to her.

"It's alright," he assured her in response to her apologies, "No harm done."

He noticed her wobbling on her hurt ankle. "Are you alright? Haven't got your sea legs yet, eh?" he said sympathetically, "It usually takes me a few days to get my own." He smiled understandingly.

'Great,' thought Ashe, 'now he thinks I'm some sissy girl who doesn't even know how to walk on a boat.' She mentally chided herself, 'Or walk in heels on one.'

"I-I'm fine," she stammered, still feeling uncomfortable from the presence of a male in such close quarters, "I'm really sorry-"

"Its fine," he said, cutting her off. "What's your name, by the way?"

She balked for a moment at giving her name out to a stranger, but she knew that the reason she came on this cruise was to learn to open up and get to know people.

"Ashe Garner," she said quietly.

"Jack Ferriman," he replied, holding out his hand in greeting. After another short moment of trepidation, Ashe took it. As she did so, she felt again that queer feeling of being examined, or searched for something, like she was one of the biology experiments she had done in high school. She retracted her hand, and risked looking up at him again. Thankfully, his eyes had lost their piercing quality and were now unreadable, though Ashe thought she saw a tiny hint of triumph in them. At what, she couldn't imagine. He was also smiling, a charming smile that included his whole face, lighting it up.

"See you around then, Ashe," he said, and, picking up his bags, he continued down the corridor. Ashe watched him until he turned a corner and disappeared.


	3. Obstacles

Disclaimer: Yada yada yada, no ownage.

Oh, and watch out for the rating. It may go up sometime very soon.

Chapter 3

Jack felt Ashe's eyes on him as he walked away, boring into his back. He turned the corner and leaned against the wall, not daring to believe that what he had just seen had been real.

A frown crossed Jack's face as he pictured the woman he had just met in his mind. Small, shy, very pretty, seemed to have some major self-assurance issues. He had taken a moment to study her in the way only one cursed like he was could– he had looked through her eyes into her very soul.

Being a soul collector, Jack considered himself somewhat familiar with what a human soul looked like. Each had a spark of intelligence and a set of morals and ideas, as well as the flip side, their instinct and intuition, as well as their emotions. Each had a set of memories and a past, however short or long, and that had some effect on their present personality and temperament.

Jack had seen a great deal of souls in his time as a collector, and each and every one of them had had all of these things, to varying degrees. But just now, when he had looked into Ashe's eyes, he had seen none of this. Her soul, her mind, had been completely blank to him, as if she was blocked off from him by an invisible wall.

Some people he had encountered in the past, those who were used to hiding their emotions and thoughts from others, had had some kind of natural defense system, making it harder for Jack to see their souls for what they really were. These were about the equivalent of a mental curtain, and physical contact usually corrected that. Never had he met a person whose soul was hidden by what resembled a mental brick wall, like Ashe's.

In fact, the strongest defense Jack had ever encountered had belonged to the soul of Maureen Epps. Hers had been the equivalent to flimsy drywall. It had caused him to underestimate her, to let her get far enough ahead of him that she had been able to blow up his ship before he had a chance to stop her.

Jack clenched his fists at the thought of the scheming bitch that had wrecked his plans. He had let her escape after she had destroyed the 'Antonia Graza' thinking that she would either drown or freeze before she could reach land. Fortunately, she was still alive. Jack grinned, the evil malice inside him shining forth momentarily. He would have his revenge when the time came.

Besides, he had had other things on his mind that night. Like the thousands of Marked ghosts that the bitch had freed.

Of course, Epps hadn't understood that once a passenger was Marked, they were his, no matter where they were. Only two souls had escaped that night: Epps herself, and that snotty little brat Katie. The rest had barely had a minute to think they were free before he had drawn them back to him and, no longer having a place to keep them, took them back with him to where Management had been waiting, none too pleased.

This being Jack's first major fuck-up, and since he had brought in his current load regardless, Management had graciously given him a second chance to fill his quota. But only one. And Jack was determined not to mess up this time. He couldn't let anything stop him now, when he was so close.

But now there was this girl, this young woman, who, no matter how hard he tried, couldn't be accessed the way the others had been, even with physical contact. This worried him.

With a sigh, Jack resolved that he couldn't get rid of her yet, not without attracting far too much unwelcome attention. He wanted his plans, whatever they would be, to go smoothly, and the best way to insure that was to carry them out without anyone noticing his presence until it was too late.

From what he had gathered just from observing the girl, Ashe seemed socially insecure, and more than a little self-conscious. Maybe if he hung around her for a bit, got to know her, she would open up – at least to him. That was, if she had any trust left in her at all.

Jack let out a sharp laugh. He was always up to a good challenge, and this Ashe kid would most certainly be that. It would take some work, but until he insured that she wouldn't cause him any trouble, he didn't want to take the chance of leaving her at large. And besides, she was cute. Maybe, if he was already in the process of getting to know her, Jack could get away with some extra 'physical contact'. This thought caused a smirk to creep across his face.

His mind made up, Jack retrieved his bags and made his way to his cabin, feeling that this voyage would be much more successful than his last.

* * *

Ashe leaned on the railing that ran the perimeter of the 'Arctic Pearl's two uppermost decks, deep in thought and more than a little relieved to be out in the open air again, with no one in her immediate vicinity. Just her and the sea, the way she liked it. 

Her exploration of the three main passenger decks had been a little overwhelming. The ship was divided into five decks, with the bottom two being devoted to cabins and the smoke-filled pub/restaurant, the 'Blue Oyster'. The next deck up had housed an indoor pool complex and spa, an exercise room, and a cute little coffee shop that reminded her of the one she had worked at through high school, called the 'Java Shack'. On this deck was also a small mall, with boutiques selling souvenirs, clothing, shoes, and all sorts of overpriced items that any idiot would have packed anyway. The mall had been full of people, so Ashe had stayed too far away to get a good look. The fourth level up on the ship had a small exterior deck around its perimeter, and the interior had held a huge lounge, filled with cozy chairs, card tables, pool tables, a video arcade and other things to amuse the mind. Also on this deck was the formal dining room, complete with live entertainment, a dance floor, and quite a few giant chandeliers. The fore of the uppermost deck was mostly an outdoor viewing area, with lots of lounge chairs, telescopes and an outdoor bar. The aft section held an information center and another small indoor lounge.

After exploring, Ashe had felt herself starting to get dizzy from the presence of so many chattering, excited people, and had fled to a deserted area of railing on the fourth level, away from the crowds of people. Now she stared out at the water as the ship sped out towards the open sea, leaving the port behind. She smiled and inhaled a deep breath of fresh, cool ocean air. After nearly two years away from it, it was good to be back on the ocean. It was like coming home. The scent of the sea brought back memories both bitter and sweet, and she stood there for a long time, reminiscing.

Suddenly, Ashe felt a presence near her. She snapped out of her peaceful reverie and looked to her left. Leaning over the railing a few meters away was the same guy she had bumped into in the corridor earlier. Jack, was it? He, too, was staring out at the water, seemingly quite as blind to the world as she had been. Not wanting to have to be polite and start up a conversation, Ashe pretended she hadn't noticed him and started to move away toward the interior of the ship, thinking she would go and find something to eat. But before she could even turn around completely, he startled her by speaking.

"It's nice, isn't it?" he commented, motioning to the water and to the lush, forested islands they were passing through, "Beautiful, eh? You ever been to Alaska before?" Jack turned to look at her, a friendly smile on his face. His eyes held no trace of that tracing quality they had before, only polite curiosity. All possibility of a hasty escape was quickly disappearing.

"No," Ashe responded, almost too quietly to be heard above the noise of the splashing water below, "But I know the coast. I grew up on Vancouver Island, south of here."

He nodded. "So…you here alone? Or are you with someone?"

"Alone," she responded, "I like to be on my own." If she had hoped Jack would take the hint, she was sorely disappointed.

He nodded again. 'Yeah, I gathered that. Otherwise why would you be out here instead of inside with everyone else?" He grinned at her, displaying a row of white teeth.

Ashe knew it was a rhetorical question, but she answered anyway. "I like the water…" she trailed off and looked back out at the scenery, hoping he would leave if she showed him she didn't want to talk.

No such luck. "Hey, why don't we go in and get a drink or something?" he offered, and seeing the look of panic on her face, he amended, "We don't have to go where it's crowded. Just a quiet spot. I want to hear why an attractive young woman such as yourself is here on a cruise all alone."

Blind panic stirred in Ashe's stomach. She didn't want to talk to Jack alone. Even the attention he was paying her now unnerved her. Usually, people didn't even notice her, let alone express an interest in talking to her. And besides, she couldn't tell him why she was here. She couldn't tell anyone that. She sought futilely for a plausible excuse that wasn't too rude, but Jack wasn't waiting for an answer. He grabbed her arm and began to lead her toward the hatch that led to the interior of the ship. Knowing she couldn't pull away without embarrassing herself further, and wondering if she should care, Ashe reluctantly followed. Once they reached the door Jack let go of her arm, to her great relief, and let her pass ahead of him.

Ashe had to fight the impulse to flee and leave him there. 'Remember,' she told herself firmly, 'one of the reasons you're here is to learn to be social. And besides, all I have to do is talk to him. I don't even half to get close to him.' Somewhat placated, Ashe breathed a deep sigh and followed Jack down the stairs to the third deck.


	4. Acquaintance

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything in this story that is mentioned in 'Ghost Ship', and if I make reference to any other published work it's probably not intentional, but alert me to it anyhow. Kapish?

Anywho…

Chapter 4

Jack knew that Ashe didn't want to go anywhere with him. Of course, she didn't know half of why that was a wise decision. He half dragged her down to the third floor, heading for the 'Java Shack'. He had concluded that getting her drunk was probably not the wisest course of action in trying to get her to spill out her secrets to him, as it couldn't guarantee success and he would then risk losing her trust altogether. He was on a bit of a time budget though, and immediately seemed like a good time to start acquainting himself with her.

They reached the coffee shop to find that the initial crowd there had dispersed, probably heading down to the main dining hall for dinner. Only a few stragglers were left, and they kept to their corners. Jack scanned the dimly lit room and spotted a table for two in a far corner. He motioned Ashe over and they sat down, Ashe fidgeting uncomfortably. She was looking around as if trying to memorize her surroundings. In fact, she was looking everywhere but at him.

This was a new feeling for Jack; usually women couldn't stop looking at him. He found that for the first time, he could imagine that this tiny woman may just be capable of putting up such a magnificent wall around her thoughts. She seemed to believe herself completely invisible.

A preppy-looking blonde waitress spotted them from the bar and wove her skinny ass through the mess of tables to where he and Ashe sat, the latter still doing a great impression of a prairie dog peeking out of its hole, her head swiveling around constantly. Jack wouldn't have been surprised if her nose had started twitching.

Ashe finally snapped to attention when the waitress politely asked them what it was they'd like. Jack plastered a cocky grin on his face, the one that usually caused women to drop whatever they may be holding at the moment, and calmly ordered a latte. Ashe, meanwhile, was staring intensely at the waitress, as if trying to place her. Her former dreamy expression had dissolved, leaving in its place a mask of calculating iciness. When the waitress turned toward her, Ashe swiftly reverted back to her normal shy demeanor. Stuttering slightly, she ordered a cappuccino and stared fixedly at the table. As the waitress turned her back and walked back toward the bar, Ashe raised her head to stare after her, a look of pained dislike on her face.

Jack cleared his throat loudly. "You know her?" He asked.

Ashe's head whipped around and she jumped, as if startled to find he was still there.

"Oh, umm…yeah. We went to university together. I didn't actually know her too well, I just remember her face."

Jack frowned slightly. From the look Ashe had given the blonde woman, he would have thought they had been old enemies. But they hadn't even known each other well enough for the waitress to recognize Ashe. So what was it about the other woman that had contorted Ashe's features into that mask of hurt and dislike?

"I'm good at that."

"What?" Jack snapped back to reality as Ashe spoke again.

"I'm good at it. Remembering faces."

"Oh. I see. So what is it that you do, Ashe?" Still slightly flustered, Jack decided he might as well get on with the interrogation. Time was ticking away.

"You mean, for a living? I've been working as a marine biologist for a couple of years now, but I'm…between jobs at the moment."

Noticing her hesitation, Jack nodded. A marine biologist? She certainly didn't look like a brainy science kind of girl, but who knew? And she had said that she liked the ocean. And that she had gone to university. Jack filed this fact away in the "probably true" section of the mental tab he was starting on her. He smiled.

"A marine biologist, huh? Wow. A woman with brains. I like that." He flashed another one of his cocky smiles, but he might as well have grinned at the table for all the response it evoked. Was the girl really that dead to the world, or a nun, or what? Slightly irked, Jack resumed his interrogation.

"So you grew up on Vancouver Island? I've heard it's nice there. Whereabouts on the Island are you from?"

"Victoria. That's the capital of British Columbia. But I'm sure you know that." She blushed and looked down again.

A moment later, a waitress (thankfully not the university acquaintance) appeared and set their coffees down on the table between them, causing a few moments' distraction. When she had left, Jack waited until he had Ashe's attention again. When she looked up, he was surprised to hear her speak.

"So you've learned a little about me. But what about you? What's your story?"

Shit. He had forgotten she was probably very well adept at keeping her secrets hidden. She had taken advantage of the distraction to turn his questions back on him. 'She's good', Jack thought grimly, 'But I'm better'.

"Me? I'm not all that interesting, actually. I grew up in Oregon, graduated high school and came up to Canada to join the Forces. Went through training, and now I fly sea planes over ice sheets for a living. At the moment, I'm on vacation for the summer." Pleased with his cute little summary, which was of course completely false, Jack smirked. "Pretty dull, huh? So how'd you become interested in marine biology?"

"I don't think it's dull at all," she replied, completely ignoring his question, "I've always wanted to fly. Planes, I mean." For some reason, this comment caused her to blush furiously. Jack couldn't figure this out. Lots of people he had told his cock and bull story to had expressed their interest in what he did. It was part of what made people trust him, and therefore it was the key to his success. But why had she been so quick to specify? What other kind of flying could she possibly have meant? Mentally giving his head a shake, Jack continued, keeping her talking.

"There's some fascinating wildlife up here too," he commented, hoping to catch her interest, "We get some awesome whale runs up here in the summer – humpbacks and Orcas, mostly."

Ashe's eyes momentarily lit up. She smiled, and her whole face transformed from faintly pretty to radiant. Her soft lips curled upward in a perfect curve, throwing the sharp angles of her face into sharp relief, and her blue-gray eyes held a dreamy, guileless sparkle that suddenly made the shy, self-conscious girl of a moment ago seem like an entirely different person. Then it was gone and her face settled back into its cold mask, and Jack almost found himself mourning the loss of such a beautiful thing.

"That sounds wonderful," she said quietly. "You're so lucky, living up here, seeing this gorgeous landscape from the air all the time, and then being able to land and see it all from ground level. It must be amazing." She then lapsed into silence, studying her coffee intensely. Jack worked on the perfect response to this. It came surprisingly quickly.

"It's great," he sighed tragically, "but I find myself getting lonely a lot, you know? Being on my own all day, every day, it's depressing. Sometimes I wish I had somebody…but you probably don't know about that. You look like you have tons of friends. Why are you here all on your own, anyway?"

Jack looked up at her and instantly regretted what he had just said. Ashe stared straight through him, as if trying to see through the wall behind him. Her face was deathly pale, and her mouth was slack. Her eyes glowed with the most horrible look he had ever seen in all his years of soul collecting. It was like he was looking through them to the very birthplace of grief, misery, hurt and fear. She looked like she had just gone into shock. Jack couldn't imagine what was wrong with her.

"Ashe? Are you alright? What's wrong?" He leaned across the table and took her hand in his, chaffing it, thinking that if she keeled over and died right now, it would save him a lot of trouble. No such luck.

She yanked her hand out of his grip so quickly she fell out of her chair with a crash. A few people turned around to stare at them. 'Great,' he thought, 'just what I need. A scene.' He stood up and came around the table to see her kneeling on the ground. "Ashe, what's wrong?"

She staggered silently to her feet and turned to face him. "I-I'm fine. I think I need to go lie down for a little while. "Umm…see you around, I guess…"She started to walk away.

He caught up with her and swung around so he was between her and the exit. He didn't notice the rising panic in her eyes. "Let me walk you to your room," he offered, holding out a hand.

She shook her head. No thank you. I'm fine, really…" And without a word, she pushed past him and took off down the hallway. He stared after her. Damn it, what had spooked her like that?

* * *

Ashe restrained herself from running only because she didn't want to trip on her heels again. She walked as fast as she thought was safe toward her cabin, breathing rapidly. She reached the door and fumbled with the key card. She finally opened the door and flew inside. She flung herself on the bed and forced herself to take deep, steadying breaths. She shook slightly. 

What was the matter with her? Why had she let herself get into this? She stared up at the ceiling, cursing herself. She was such a fool, thinking that after only a few months she could cope with all these people again, that she could miraculously be someone different, that she could escape her past.

That waitress in the coffee shop – Ashe had known her all right. They had been in the same year at the University of Victoria, and she had gone on with Ashe to mainland British Columbia while she finished her specialization course in marine biology. The blonde girl – Melinda Harper was her name – had always felt sorry for Ashe. She had pretended, as all the others had, to be nice to her, to talk to her. She had even tried to hook Ashe up with a guy, which Ashe had not allowed. Melinda had been so sweet, but Ashe was convinced that she did it because she wanted something from her – didn't they all? Ashe had never figured out what it was she had wanted, but still she had distanced herself from Melinda, never trusting her, never taking her at face value. Every time Melinda would talk to her, Ashe's stomach would clench and she found she was unable to talk. Melinda was so popular, so nice, everyone liked her…it wasn't fair…After a while, Melinda had stopped trying to talk to her. They all did after a while. Ashe had known her for six years – up until a few months ago.

And now she didn't even recognize Ashe. Of course, that was to be expected. Ashe was invisible, wasn't she? So why was this Jack Ferriman guy tailing her? He seemed interested in her, but that was probably just a ruse to get in her pants. That had happened enough over the years.

But somehow, she couldn't believe that. There was something about him…something different. She thought back to a few moments ago, in the café. She had been building up to a breakdown since he had started asking her about her past. She had tried to steer him away, but he kept coming back to it. When he had asked her why she was here all alone, she had finally cracked. She had to avoid answering that question. There was no way she could tell him that. And he had made that comment about friends. It had been like a knife between the ribs. It had just been an innocent comment; how could he have known? But it had hurt nonetheless.

She remembered with painful clarity when he had reached across the table and taken her hand. Instinct had told her to get away, but something else – something deeper – had hesitated. His touch had been so warm, so gentle…

No. That had settled it. He was definitely just trying to get in her pants.

Repeating this to herself, hoping she could make herself believe it, she stood and went to the bathroom, praying that tomorrow would be a better day.


	5. A Plan

Disclaimer: If you believe I actually own any of the rights to Ghost Ship, you're stupider than I am. If so, congrats on your world record.

A/N: I'm having so much fun writing this. If y'all have any suggestions, corrections, or anything else, please review. Thank you. Merci. Gracias. Falla. Danke. Yeah, anywho…

Chapter 5

The next morning dawned cold and cloudy. Ashe awoke from fitful dreams and stumbled groggily to the bathroom. She took a shower and dressed in jeans and a light blue fitted sweater. She piled her damp hair atop her head and secured it with a large black hair clamp, then dragged her ass out of the bathroom. She slipped on her black high-heeled boots and slung her purse over her shoulder, thinking of going to get some breakfast. She vaguely remembered that she hadn't eaten anything the night before.

She exited her cabin and started to climb the stairs. She considered going to the 'Java Shack' for breakfast, but decided she didn't really want to be in there again. The 'Blue Oyster' was also out of the question, because it wasn't open this early. 'Besides,' thought Ashe, 'I hate the smell of cigarette smoke.' It always brought back bad memories from her childhood.

That left only one option. The main dining hall. With all those people…Ashe hesitated for a moment, but hunger won out, as well as a sense of duty. After all, the reason she had come on this cruise was to become used to interacting with people. Ashe heaved a deep sigh and continued climbing to the fourth floor.

She entered the main dining room and was immediately astounded by its size. She had seen it the day before, but there had been too many people milling around to get a good look. The room had the overall floor space of a football field. Most of this was taken up by a raised dais at one end which would undoubtedly hold an orchestra and some other performers at night, but which now stood empty. Heavy deep green curtains fell to either side of the stage. Grouped in front of the stage were an array of about fifty round tables of assorted sizes, each covered with a gleaming white tablecloth and a centerpiece of colourful seasonal flowers. Off to one side, a buffet table had been set up serving breakfast delicacies, and beside that a swinging door marked 'Personnel Only' led to the kitchens. Behind the dining area, a solid wood dance floor stretched almost to the other end of the hall. Chandeliers criss-crossed the two-story ceiling above, unlit now because of the natural light streaming in through the bank of windows along one wall. The windows were eight feet high and stretched half the length of the dance floor. They provided a beautiful view of the cloudy gray waters and the matching sky above. At the other end of the dance floor was a display case showing various awards and medals the cruise line and the ship had received, some information about the ship and its history, and a plaque depicting all the rich sponsors who had donated their money to the building of the ship. The place was packed, and sound echoed around the room. Great idea - with an orchestra. Bad with tons of people talking and children screaming and chairs scraping and dishes clanking.

Ashe almost turned back around and left, but she steeled her resolve and crossed the dance floor to the dining section. She found a small unoccupied table next to the wall and claimed it with her bag. A quick trip to the buffet table and a few mumbles that sounded like "good morning" later, Ashe settled down to her table with a cup of coffee and a buttered bagel. She ate in silence as she studied the people around her. Nobody else was alone. They all had people to talk to, friends or family to chat with.

After she had finished eating and had another cup of coffee, Ashe got up and went out to the same section of the deck she had occupied the day before just as the rain started to pour down around her.

* * *

Jack sped down the staircase to the lower holds of the 'Arctic Pearl', already knowing the way by heart. It was, after all, his headquarters aboard this ship. He pulled open the heavy hatch that led down to the very lowest cargo hold, slowing his pace to a lazy swagger as he came in sight of his companions. He didn't want them to know he had been rushing. In truth, he couldn't stand to be around so many living people, and only went up to the passenger decks when he had to. But they didn't know that. 

'They' were the only other souls he had saved from the destruction of the 'Graza'. His most recent kills, the crew of the 'Arctic Warrior'. He had figured that if he was ever to get back at Maureen Epps, his having her friends captive would drive her out of her mind. Jack smirked. Not that she'd even recognize them as the good people she once knew. Once a spirit is Marked, it usually takes about a day for them to make the transformation into the twisted servants they were meant to be. Epps' old crew had all made the transition beautifully – all except Murphy. Even now, Murphy still wouldn't give up on his old self, no matter how much harder it was growing with each passing day. This didn't worry Jack. After all, Murphy was Marked, and therefore under Jack's complete control.

As Jack approached, Dodge looked up. "Yo," he called, "What's the news from above?"

Munder grinned. "Softened up that ice bitch any?" the long-haired man chuckled to himself. He found the whole Ashe Garner problem quite amusing, this being the second time in a week that Jack had been stumped by a woman.

"No," Jack said scathingly as he took a seat on a crate of his 'special cargo'. Nobody had asked about the gold when Jack had brought it on board, and that was for the best. Best the gold be an x-factor until the appropriate time. Jack put his face in his hands, suddenly exhausted, and spoke through his fingers.

"She's so skittish. She probably had a bad man experience, 'cause she doesn't like me touching her. She freaked out when I tried to touch her hand last night. She's not good with talking about herself either. Especially her past. She'll talk about the present, but if it's something in her past...if I could only see…" Jack snarled in frustration. He lifted his head to survey the five men before him – Dodge, Munder, Murphy, Greer and Santos – with his piercing stare. "I dunno. I think we should just kill her. She's definitely alone, and nobody seems to give a shit about her. In fact, she thinks she's just about fuckin' invisible. Maybe I should just bring her down here and -"

"No." Murphy said sharply.

Jack turned to look at the former captain and sneered. "You got a better idea, old man?"

Murphy seemed to freeze instantly under Jack's penetrating glare, but after a moment he hardened his resolve. "I just think we should give it some more time. Speaking of ideas, by the way, I haven't seen you coming up with a brilliant plan to take over this ship, hmm?"

Jack snarled, but the blow hit home. He was finding this place surprisingly empty of any layout that could help him kill almost 700 people quickly and efficiently. Plus, he had had other things on his mind...

"Shut up," Jack growled at Murphy, "It's only the second day. These things take time." He got up and started pacing. Five pairs of eyes followed him as he circled the small cargo area, muttering and cursing to himself.

Suddenly, he was struck by inspiration. "Wait a minute…" he mumbled, the details of the plan firming in his mind. He stopped pacing and looked up, a smirk playing across his features. He addressed his companions.

"Boys, I think I just found us a plan." Smiling to himself, and without another word, Jack brushed past his five ghostly accomplices and up the stairs to the main decks. It was so simple, so brilliant – why hadn't he thought of it before?

'This voyage is definitely going to be better than the last', he thought as he hurried up to the spot where he knew he'd find what he was looking for.


	6. Ghosts

Disclaimer: See last five chapters.

A/N: Endless Rain and Name of Reading: I love you….sniff

(Looks out into the great big world) Hello? Is anybody out there? Is anybody gonna review my story? HelloooooOoo……

Chapter 6

Ashe loved the rain. There was something comforting about it, as if the darkness and pouring water all around her would hide the gloom and tears inside herself. No one else was out on the deck, and Ashe could imagine that she had this whole glorious ship to herself, that she could sail into the sea forever and never have to return. Without thinking, Ashe made her way to the front of the ship. The railing came to a sharp point at the prow, and Ashe nestled herself into the little nook, sitting on the ground with her legs trailing between the bars, dangling over the edge.

'Take that, Kate Winslet,' Ashe thought, reflecting on a film she had watched in her last year of high school, in which the actress had stood at the prow of a ship much like this one and proclaimed "I'm flying!" Ashe had rolled her eyes during that part. She had been sitting at the back of the theatre alone, watching the movie only because she hadn't wanted to go home. It had been a rainy day just like this one…

Ashe shook her head. Why was she always dwelling in the past? 'Because that's all you have left…' a small voice in her head said.

"No," she whispered out loud, shaking her head, "I have tons of time to do the things I've always wanted to do. I can't let my past bog me down now…" She fell silent, listening to the patter of raindrops on the deck and watching the ripples they made in the water.

The horizon stretched out in front of her, unbroken and eternal in the distance. White mist rose from the water, blurring the clear line between sea and sky, making it seem as one. She was alone in the middle of this gray world, and the only thing she wanted, the only thing she had ever wanted, was to sail over that horizon, to be swallowed away by the mist and rain and stay here alone with the sea and the sky forever.

Ashe had always embraced the idea of death as salvation, as an end to the torture of living in this world. Yet she had never once thought of taking her own life. She had contemplated it, of course, who doesn't? But she had never seriously considered it. She knew that her time would come eventually, and that it would be an end to her troubles. But now…She peered over the edge of the railing where her feet dangled, judging the distance to the roiling water below. Her hair blew behind her in a sudden wind, like a chestnut flag. The seat of her jeans was soaked from sitting in the wet deck, and she shivered in the cold. 'Don't you dare,' whispered something in her mind, 'You have no right to do that. You have a second chance, a chance to actually make a difference, to make yourself known to the world. You will not throw that away.'

"But I never wanted this," she thought, "I never wanted to be back here, with so many people, and I'm still invisible…"

A single tear leaked from her eye, mixing with the rainwater on her face. She knew she had to be here. She had a purpose here. And she was ignoring it. Suddenly ashamed of herself, she resolved to try harder from now on. She rose to her feet and tugged her sweater down to hide the wet spot on her jeans, although she was so soaked by now that it made little difference. Her hair had fallen out of its clamp long ago and now it clung to her face and neck in whorled tendrils, so dark it looked black.

Ashe turned to go inside, and was just about to grab the handle when the door flew open, smacking her in the face. She flew backward, her nose throbbing in pain, her teeth sinking through her lip. She landed with a small splash in a puddle of rainwater on the deck. She looked up, close to tears with pain and embarrassment. And there, looking down at her with what looked horribly like amusement, was Jack Ferriman.

* * *

Captain Sean Murphy sat silently within the lowest holds of the 'Arctic Pearl' with his head in his hands. He sat apart from his former crew, who were passing the time by telling loud obnoxious jokes, as was their habit during their lives. 

Murphy's own life had been longer than theirs, and in many respects he didn't care that he was dead. He had always known his time would come eventually, but not like this. He had not lived a hard, lonely life just to die and become that bastard Ferriman's property. He resented Jack not only because he had stolen the souls of so many people before him, but because he had taken the lives of his crew, for whom Murphy felt he was ultimately responsible. His only consolation was that Epps was not amongst the four men in the hold with him.

Murphy felt a pang of regret and grief at the thought of the young woman he had known for so long and yet not long enough at all. She had been more than a friend and coworker, she had been like the daughter he had never had. He had never expressed this to her while he had lived, and now it pained him to know he would likely never see her again.

Murphy's life had been devoid of any real family. Born in Massachusetts to a pair of poor Irish immigrants, he had led a rough and very short childhood. When his father had died in a boating accident, Sean had dropped out of school to take over the family fishing business to support his mother and little sister. He had been sixteen at the time.

Just after Murphy had turned twenty, his mother had been overcome by Alzheimer's, and he had decided to leave New England for the west coast, where he had joined a team of ship salvers and learned the business.

When he was twenty-five, he had met a young Canadian woman and settled down with her for a while. It hadn't lasted long. After a few months, Murphy had found life on the land suffocating, the call of the sea strong in his blood. He had left her one night in early spring with only a note telling her that he would always love her, but that he couldn't ignore his very nature.

He had driven to the nearest port, full of regrets, and had joined another salvage crew. He had found that salving was his passion; he loved the thrill of finding something that had seemed lost forever and restoring it.

Murphy had never had another relationship with a woman that had lasted longer than one night. He had lived from job to job, on the sea more than he was on land. He loved the sea and all it had to offer, while the land held only bitter memories.

At the age of forty-six, Murphy had bought the 'Arctic Warrior', and soon after had contracted his very own crew. For three years they had brought up more wrecks than some salvers did in a lifetime – they were the best damn salvage crew in the business. Murphy himself was at the peak of his career and the happiest he had ever been. He was part of a close-knit family, albeit a dysfunctional one, and together he and his crew had shared laughter and tears, success and failure, love and loss. He had never expected or wanted any more.

Until a few short days ago, when it had all ended so abruptly.

A single tear rolled down the old seaman's cheek now as he surveyed all that remained of his hard, lonely lifetime – a few chests of gold and far too many ghosts.


	7. Mist and Memories

Disclaimer: See last six chapters.

A/N: Wow, this has taken a while, eh? I think I'm experiencing some writer's block. This really sucks, and I hope it doesn't last too long. I've been working really hard on this chapter. I've restarted countless times, and I hope it's up to scratch. Bear with me here people!! I promise the action is coming soon!

Chapter 7

Jack walked briskly toward where he knew Ashe would be. He reached out toward her mind, hopeful…maybe, if he could just see…

He found her mind lingering at the prow of the ship. He reached out toward her with his powers, and cursed loudly when he felt the wall still intact, protecting her soul from his prying eyes. But at least he knew where she was. He walked with long strides toward the nearest exit. If he could sneak up on her…

He flung open the door, but only halfway open it hit an obstruction. Jack heard a feminine scream of surprise and pain, and flew through the door to find Ashe sitting a few feet away in a puddle of rainwater. It was still pouring, and she was drenched. Her hair fell in wet tangles to wrap around her neck and carve dark paths across her face, which was paled from the cold. A red welt crossed her cheek from where the door had struck her. Her jeans were soaked, and her blue sweater clung to her thin form. Rain sloughed down around her and fog rolled over the ship, making her seem more like a shadow in the mist than a substantial woman. She looked like a ghost.

As she slowly raised her gaze to him, her eyes caught his. They stood out starkly against her pale features, their usual blue-gray hardened to the colour of slate. Embarrassment was written clearly in them, as well as pain and hopelessness. 'She's beautiful,' he thought, 'but she's so determined that no one cares about her. I need to break that shell. Fast. And the first step might be proving her wrong.'

"Oh, shit!"

Jack closed the door behind him and darted over to where Ashe sat, her hand on her cheek. 'Now's the time, Ferriman' he thought, 'you've gotta win her over now, or you'll have lost your chance.'

He knelt down next to her, a carefully perfected look of concern on his face. He put his hand gently on her shoulder and leaned toward her. He had one chance to get her, and if he lost it now, he could lose everything. He wouldn't let that happen.

"I'm so sorry," he said, "I didn't see you there. Are you okay?"

Ashe turned to look at him, and he could almost see her wanting to pull away, could almost feel the panic rising in her, the fear of being touched taking over. He backed off, but only slightly.

"I-I'm fine," she stammered, leaning back from him, "No big deal, really."

Jack fought down a scowl. No woman had ever leaned away from him. 'She's not just another woman,' his mind chided, 'She's different. You have to treat her differently.'

He gripped her arm and helped her to her feet. She swayed slightly, and it was only then that Jack realized how cold it was out here.

"How long have you been out here?" he asked her, gripping both of her shoulders and turning her to face him.

Ashe frowned. It seemed she was just realizing the time herself. "I don't know, actually. I was just sitting at the prow, watching the fog come in…" she trailed off and looked around at the fog that now enveloped them. "I guess I was out here longer that I thought."

She had started to shiver violently, and Jack had another moment of wishing she would just drop dead and save him the bother when she seemed to pull herself together.

"Well, I think I'll go inside and warm up," she said through chattering teeth, giving him a weak, shy smile. She started to pull away, but he wasn't going to let her get away that easily. He held on to her arm and pulled her back toward him, wrapping his other arm around her waist. He felt her stiffen, and then slowly relax, grateful for the support.

"Listen, Jack…" she said, looking down, "About last night…I'm sorry I ran out like that…It's just that…" she trailed off again as another fit of shivering caused her teeth to chatter violently.

"It's alright, I understand," he crooned as he led her back through the door. She stumbled over the step in the doorway and fell into him. He caught her, expecting her to pull away as she had the night before. But to his surprise, she leaned into him, trembling. 'The kid's in really poor shape,' he thought, gently peeling the strands of hair away from her face. After a moment she looked up at him, a calculating look in her eyes.

Jack smiled down at her, concentrating on his every move. She was poised like a deer, ready to flee at the slightest hint of danger. Jack felt as if any small noise or movement he made could send her flying down the hall.

He realized he had never really had to think this hard about how he acted with a woman. He had never really needed to gain a woman's trust or faith before having his way with her. Women had always come to him, undone by his looks and charm, and all he had had to do was make sure they came back for more. He had always played his women, never taking the effort to stay faithful. The only thing women are good for is sex. The rest is complicated shit that Jack didn't particularly need or want. And now, finding himself in a situation where he actually had to work to gain a woman's trust or lose everything trying, he was at somewhat at a loss for how to go about doing it.

Relief washed through him when Ashe responded with her own smile, however hesitant. He stood her carefully on her feet and stepped back.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, doing a really good job at faking concern.

"I'm fine," she assured him, "What time is it?"

Jack checked his watch. "Eleven thirty." She looked disappointed.

"What's wrong?" He asked, wondering what was wrong with her now.

"Would you say eleven thirty's close enough to twelve?" she asked seriously. Confused, Jack nodded.

"I guess so."

"Good. Because I know I'm not supposed to drink in the morning, but I think I need a beer. At least."

Jack grinned. Now this was something he knew about. "A drinker, are you?" She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Good, so am I. How 'bout you get changed and meet me in the Blue Oyster in fifteen minutes?" he said.

Ashe hesitated, weighing her need for alcohol against her unwillingness and inexperience with a drinking partner. Finally, the beer won out.

"Okay, fifteen minutes then," she agreed, and without another word she turned and headed down the stairs to the cabin decks.

* * *

Murphy crept along the corridor after Ferriman, heading up toward the passenger decks. Quickly, Murphy cast a glamour over himself, making him invisible to any prying eyes, even Ferriman's. Oh, the younger man had other ways of checking up on his charges, but as long as he didn't suspect anything, he would never feel the need to check Murphy's whereabouts. 

After hearing Ferriman talk about the girl he was after, Murphy found himself becoming curious about her. She certainly seemed like a girl with problems, but Murphy knew somehow that she didn't deserve what Ferriman had in store for her. So he had decided to see her for himself, and warn her about Ferriman, who he really was and what he was planning. Chances are she'd think he was crazy, but it was worth a shot.

The Mark on Murphy's hand shot another searing stab of pain up his arm. Wincing, Murphy took the pain as incentive to keep fighting.

Since the day Ferriman had Marked Murphy his property, the Mark had been like an anchor, weighing at Murphy's soul, trying to tear him away from the ethics he had always valued and make him into another will-less slave. But Murphy hadn't been willing to give up his soul so easily. So he had fought it. After a day or so, the Mark had started twinging with pain every time Murphy resisted doing something it compelled him to do. Now it shot stinging darts of pain up his entire arm when challenged. Murphy knew that if he didn't give in soon, the pain would become crippling. He knew he would have to give in at some point. If only he could stop Ferriman's plans aboard this ship first…Which meant he had to hurry.

Creeping up the last of the stairs, Murphy saw Ferriman open the door leading to the exterior of the ship. He heard Ferriman swear loudly, and then disappear outside. Figuring it was too risky to follow him outside, Murphy stayed where he was and waited. Sure enough, Ferriman appeared a few minutes later supporting a small woman who was soaking wet and shivering violently. From the uncertain looks the two kept shooting each other, this must be Ashe.

Murphy didn't really get a good look at her, but he heard their conversation. "Blue Oyster in fifteen minutes…' he mumbled to himself, deep in thought. He wanted to know more about Ashe; something about her looked terribly familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. Meeting her at the bar before Ferriman got to her would do nicely. As Ashe moved off down the stairs toward her rooms, Murphy swept down the same staircase toward the Blue Oyster, praying that Jack would be too slow.

* * *

Ashe closed the door behind her and collapsed on her bed, still shaking a bit. Hugging herself, she rocked back and forth, trying to warm up. 

After a minute or so, she got up and rummaged around for some dry clothes. She picked out a pair of green khaki pants and a white cotton shirt. Buttoning the shirt, she entered the bathroom and tried to put her hair back in order. While she was struggling with the thick mass, she finally allowed herself to think about what had occurred in the last fifteen minutes.

She just couldn't seem to get away from Jack Ferriman. No matter how hard she tried to avoid people, he always seemed to find her and put her on the spot. Stranger still, he actually seemed to want to talk to her. To notice her. The strangest thing of all was that it seemed genuine.

Ashe had had her share of pity, of charity. She knew what it looked like when someone was pretending to be interested in her. It happened a lot with men. Men who liked how she looked, but were reluctant to go far beyond that. Men who wanted her for sex, but didn't want the person trapped inside the body, didn't want the complication. But it was different with Jack.

Jack didn't even seem to notice her physically, but seemed genuinely interested in her mind. He sought her out just to talk, to find out more about her. And, unlike the others, he seemed to mind when she declined. As if she actually meant enough to him to not take no for an answer.

But she was being stupid. Nobody ever cared what she thought, or even if she thought. All men ever wanted was one thing – the one thing she would never be able to stomach giving them. Never again.

Shying away from bad memories, Ashe finished with her hair, satisfied that it looked at least decent. She applied some lipstick and mascara, and felt a bit more human. Done, she took a moment to simply look at herself in the mirror. She examined the face she had always thought of as ugly, with the cloudy blue eyes and big nose, the cloud of colourless hair and the funny looking ears.

She had always believed herself to be just less than what she wanted herself to be. In fact, she had turned out looking like the one person she never wanted to be – her mother. Ashe had always wanted clear, striking blue eyes, but had been given gray, dull ones like her mother's. She had always desired long, wavy black hair, but had instead got this thick, dark-brown mop that her mother had also shared. Ashe had also inherited her mother's big ears and nose.

Similarly, Ashe had always wanted to be smart and popular, but had completed only half of her ambition. She had never wanted to date handsome men, just men who would accept her as she was. But all she had ever received were many good-looking men who cared nothing for her.

That was how her mother had always described Ashe's father. The few times during her childhood years when Ashe had dared ask her mother about the man who had sired her, her mother would tell Ashe that her father had been a lost soul, a wanderer who hadn't really wanted a family, but had tricked himself and her into believing that he did. She would tell Ashe that her father had harbored a love for the sea equal to Ashe's own, and Ashe would treasure this one bond to a man that was a part of her, yet would remain faceless to her forever. And Ashe had sworn that for this reason, she would never marry, would never allow herself to be so enthralled by a man as to be duped like her mother had been.

But if she was so determined to stay away from men, then why had she agreed to meet Jack? Why was she beginning to almost…trust him? He was handsome enough, but so were many of the others. He appeared to enjoy her company, but that was so easily faked that it hardly mattered.

Thinking back, Ashe realized the answer: The first time she had met Jack, when she had bumped into him in the hallway. Most people would have accepted her apology and moved on. After all, she was invisible. But Jack had actually stopped to talk to her, had taken an interest. He had asked for her name. And that intense feeling she got when he touched her – that feeling of being searched, but not exactly violated. Just searched. That was what had made her trust him. And now he wanted to know about her past. She had mixed feelings about telling him. Of all the men she had ever known, Jack was the only one to ask her about her past, about her likes and dislikes, to actually seek her out and make her spend time with him. And despite her inner warnings, she was starting to feel strangely safe with Jack. But at the same time she knew she wouldn't – that she couldn't possibly tell him who she was. She could lose all she'd worked so hard for…

Setting her jaw, Ashe scooped up her purse and headed out the door. She really needed a drink.

* * *

Murphy entered the Blue Oyster Pub. The smell of smoke, alcohol and wood polish assaulted his nose as he scanned the room for a good place to sit and wait. He settled on a table at the back, pulled into a corner but still affording a view of the whole room. He kept the glamour of invisibility over himself, not wanting to be seen staring at the patrons of the pub, all of which were laughing and having a great time, oblivious to the evil brewing under their very feet. 

Glancing to the doorway, Murphy saw a small form enter the pub and take a seat at the bar. He recognized it as Ashe, but he needed a better view. Quickly he rose and scooted up to a booth only meters from where she sat.

Up close, Ashe appeared less like a slim, short woman than like a tiny, mousy person trapped in a body that was entirely too big for her. Her head darted around at the crowd, and she squirmed as if trying to make herself even smaller. Her back was turned, and Murphy could see her tense, hunched shoulders. Her hair was loose and fell down her back, slowly drying out to form tiny dark-brown curls in the humid air. Her face, or the silhouette of it, was clearly lined and angled. Murphy still couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen that face before somewhere.

Then, without warning, Ashe whipped her head around to where Murphy was sitting, seeming to place the exact spot where he was sitting though he was still quite invisible. She continued to look straight at him as if she knew he had been staring at her. Although Murphy knew there was no reason to feel ashamed, as there was no way she could possibly see him, he bowed his head, breaking eye contact. When he dared to look back up, she was no longer looking at him but gazing around at the smoky space, seemingly in a daze.

Suddenly, realization hit Murphy like a blow to the chest. That look…that dazed, sleepy look…he knew where he had seen it before. He had seen it in the mirror countless times upon his own face, whenever he had felt uncomfortable and wished just to escape. And that face. Ashe had his strong chin and cheekbones. But those eyes, that hair…those belonged to… Ferriman had told Murphy and his former crew all he had managed to learn about Ashe, which was precious little. She had grown up on Vancouver Island, Canada. She had a love for the sea and for living things. She seemed to have had a rough childhood, but had come through okay. It was this that had intrigued Murphy to know more about the girl. He himself had led a rough childhood and had managed to overcome it. In fact, the one thing Murphy had wished all his life was to have children and to care for them so that they would never have to go through what he had been through. But he had realized too late that he couldn't follow through on that wish.

Memories washed back to him. A woman with dark-brown hair and gorgeous blue-gray eyes full of tears, telling him that she was pregnant, that he would be a father. The same woman, her eyes heated with anger, furious that he refused to marry her. And finally, the woman he had loved with her eyes closed in sleep, his final words to her written on a scrap of paper at her bedside, as he left her with their unborn child to return to the sea.

Looking at the product of his selfish wish now, a single tear rolled down Murphy's weather-beaten cheek. He had always wanted to give his child the world, but had realized that he couldn't live in a world with a child in it. He had thought that losing Epps had been hard – she was the closest thing to a daughter he had ever known. But now, seeing this emotionally crushed young woman that was truly his daughter…guilt was too mild a word to express what he was feeling.

He couldn't look at her anymore. Shaking, Murphy stood and ran out of the pub, almost running into Ferriman on the way through the door.

Murphy turned and looked on as the bastard went and sat down next to his only daughter.

"Don't you dare touch her, you prick," he hissed, his Mark throbbing with pain, "Harm her and I'll make you wish you had never even heard of the 'Arctic Warrior' or her captain."

As Murphy slowly returned to the brig of the 'Arctic Pearl', he gathered his will, preparing to fight the Mark and Ferriman harder than ever. Murphy would do his best to make sure that every person on this ship escaped that bastard, but failing that, he would willingly give his very soul to protect his daughter. He owed her that much.


	8. Understanding

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.

Chapter 8

Ashe sat down at the bar and looked around, already having regrets about coming. It was still before noon and therefore the pub wasn't busy, but it had enough noisily talking people to make her nervous. And she had the prickling feeling that she was being watched.

Ashe turned around and glanced over her shoulder, inadvertently catching the eyes of a man sitting in a booth right behind her. He was staring fixedly at her, as if he found her fascinating. Why was everyone noticing her all of a sudden? 'Just figures,' Ashe thought bitterly, 'just as I become about as unreal as a person can get, everyone decides to notice me.'

She stared back at the stranger. He was handsome in a rugged, weathered way. He had a shock of flyaway black hair that was graying slightly at the temples, and a high forehead crossed with worry lines. He had thick brows that shadowed dark brown eyes that flowed into deeply etched laugh lines. He wore the clothing of a longtime mariner, and something about him reminded Ashe of an indiscernible memory.

Ashe flashed a hesitant smile at him, but he didn't catch it because at that moment he ducked his head, no longer looking at her. 'And why would he?' she thought bitterly, 'I don't matter.'

Ashe took the time to gaze around the room. It was a low-class sort of establishment, the kind of seedy pub one would expect to find in the lower decks of an Alaskan cruise ship. It was filled with the acrid scent of cigarette smoke, as it was one of the few places on board that allowed smoking, overlaid with the scent of wood polish and alcohol. The decorations were scant but for a few large pictures of long ago whaling expeditions and a few pieces of whaling paraphernalia hung on the walls.

The tables were made out of what was obviously supposed to look like driftwood from various shipwrecks and were topped with old-fashioned oil lamps. The bar, which ran all along one wall, was constructed of solid mahogany, possibly worth more than the rest of the pub put together. Behind it were various displays of liquor bottles, and glasses hung from racks on the ceiling. The lighting in the room was poor and hazy, with only a few portholes in the far wall providing any natural light. Since it was still foggy and rainy outside, even these let in little or no illumination. All in all, it was pretty dank.

Ashe glanced back at the man behind her, only to realize he was no longer there. Swinging around, she saw him stalking quickly toward the door. As he was leaving, another man entered. His face was hidden in the shadow of the doorway as he scanned the room, but Ashe recognized him as Jack. Before, he had been wearing jeans, a white t-shirt and a windbreaker. Now, he was wearing a pair of dark gray pants, a blue dress shirt and a leather jacket. His hair was slightly mussed, half of it standing straight on end, but it managed to look purposeful. As the shadows shifted, his face came into view. His beautiful eyes fell on her and he smiled as he strode toward her. Ashe looked down at the bar in front of her. Why did he have to be so attractive? Why did she have to be so ugly? Ashe contemplated the injustice of life for another moment before she felt him take a seat next to her.

Slowly lifting her eyes and then her head to look at him, Ashe smiled in greeting. She had to get over this fear of people if she was going to do what she came here for, and she had to start somewhere.

'Be strong,' she told herself firmly, 'don't let your past get the best of you.'

"Hi," she greeted him simply. As soon as it left her mouth, she felt stupid. 'Hi'? Just 'hi'? She bit her lower lip, trying to keep breathing. He looked even better this close up, and the way he was smiling at her…

"Hi," he responded, looking her up and down briefly, "You look nice. Healthier, actually. When I saw you out on the deck I could have sworn I was looking at a ghost."

Ashe's eyes opened wider, and a forced laugh escaped her lips. "Right."

Jack smiled and turned to the bartender. "Hey, can we get two beers?"

When the man had deposited their drinks in front of them, Ashe took a large gulp of the cold foamy liquid. Man, she had missed alcohol…

She couldn't suppress a grin at the amused look on Jack's face. He seemed impressed.

"What?" she asked, "I haven't had a beer in two years. I think I've earned this." She took another huge swig.

Jack's lips twitched, but he managed to keep a straight face. With anyone else, Ashe would have felt that she was being laughed at. With Jack it was more like a shared joke.

"You shouldn't drink it that fast if you haven't had any in so long," he warned only half-jokingly, "After all, that is Canadian beer."

Ashe shook her head. "Naw, I've always had an excellent metabolism." She looked at him out the corner of her eye.

"What, afraid I'll out drink you?"

At that, Jack mumbled something under his breath that had something to do with cold weather in Hell, and without further ado he raised his glass and drained it.

And so it went. After her third glass, Ashe had to admit to herself that she was indeed not the drinker she used to be. But she'd be damned if she'd admit it to Jack; the man had yet to show any effect from his own three glasses. Ashe, however, noticed that the alcohol had a freeing effect on her tongue. She couldn't remember ever talking this much, other than to herself.

Jack asked her about her job, and she admitted that she hadn't worked there long. When he asked her why not, she evaded him nicely with a convenient call of nature. Upon her return from the bathroom, he ordered another round and asked her about her family. She told him that she had never known her father, and that her mother had worked long hours to make ends meet, and that she had hardly been around. He sympathized, realizing how much time she had spent alone. As the afternoon wore on, she started to tell him about other aspects of her childhood: how she had always been an outcast, how she had never had any friends. How things had only worsened when her mother had died.

These were secrets Ashe had always thought she would take to her grave and beyond, but somehow Jack's presence seemed to alleviate her fears and reserves. It was the way he listened, the way he leaned into her when she spoke, his eyes never leaving hers. It was the intense interest he fixed her with and the understanding in his eyes when she told him about her life. It was that soothing, mesmerizing aura that seemed to seep from him into her, strengthening her and softening her at the same time. It was as if she actually mattered enough to him for him to want to know about her past. Ashe had always thought it impossible to meet someone – especially a male – that would finally listen to her, understand her. Jack was all this and more.

Finally, as she knew he would, he approached the subject that she knew she could never discuss, not even with Jack.

"So how come you haven't drank in two years?" he asked, "your story seems to end about two years ago and start again here. What happened two years ago that everything stopped?"

Oh, how she wanted to tell him. How she wanted to make him believe her, help her. But she couldn't. Stalling for time, Ashe gazed out one of the portholes at the far side of the pub. The room had slowly filled as they had talked, but for once Ashe hadn't noticed the crowds.

"It stopped raining," she observed. She turned back to face Jack. "You wanna go for a walk?"

Jack hesitated a minute, seeming to battle with himself. Finally, he nodded his head.

"Sure," he replied, "why not?"

With that, he rose gracefully to his feet, seemingly not even the least inhibited by the five drinks he had polished off. Ashe on the other hand had only consumed four, and had to try twice in order to stand. Normally she would have been embarrassed at such a public display of weakness, but she felt somehow that Jack would protect her from the crowd around her, would shield her for the first time in her life from the harsh realities of the world.

Dropping some bills on the counter to pay for their binge, the two of them headed out the door and up the steps to the door leading to the lower deck.

The rain had stopped but the wind had picked up, causing the fog to lift, leaving in its place a sky of rolling white clouds. Ashe ambled toward the front of the ship where she had sat only a few hours ago, yet it seemed like days had passed. Maybe it was the alcohol, but Ashe was feeling the happiest she could ever remember herself feeling. She was on a ship in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight, constantly gaining on that far-off horizon. She was I the company of a man that, besides actually noticing her, seemed to understand her. She was surrounded by people but for the first time in her existence she neither noticed nor cared. Wordlessly, Ashe leaned against the railing, her eyes scanning the blue horizon that spread in front of her as far as the eye could see. 'Maybe I was right in coming here,' she thought silently, 'maybe the answers are all here, if I choose to see them.'

She sighed. If only it were that easy…

Jack leaned on the railing next to her. Ashe vaguely remembered that up until today she hadn't allowed a man to come anywhere hear her, let alone stand so close to her that she could feel the heat coming from him. He followed her gaze to the horizon, and then looked back at her.

"What do you think about," he asked softly, his breath tickling her ear, "What do you think about when you're out here all alone?"

Ashe glanced at him out the corner of her eye. His eyes bore into hers, and once again Ashe felt as if she was being searched for something. She looked back out at the horizon, breaking eye contact.

"Lots of things," she murmured in reply, "But mostly I don't think. Throughout my entire life, I've always lived by the sea. When things got rough, it was always something I could depend on, a never-changing constant that could anchor me down. And at the same time it freed me." She shook her head, realizing she probably wasn't making any sense. "I can't really explain it. As a kid, whenever I was depressed or angry or needed to get away from people, I would go and stare at the sea and it would sorta absorb me, I guess. I'd look out at the horizon and imagine myself on the sea with nothing, nobody around me, just free to be me. And I'd feel as if I was there. I suppose it's some kind of subconscious psychological thing, but it would always calm me down and inspire me to do the best I could with what I had, and to wait until the day when I'd be able to leave it all behind. I guess I still feel that way. That's why I love ships so much. Because out here, no matter which way you turn, you see blue horizon, sky to sea. So I can imagine that I'm all alone, where nobody will judge me or laugh at me or make me feel unwanted."

She turned to Jack, expecting him to look confused or freaked out or something. He might understand her better than anyone else ever had, but what she had just said was bound to sound absolutely ridiculous. That's why she was surprised to find him staring at her again, but not with scorn or even pity, but with fascination. She was so shocked that she said, "What?" in a rather accusing sort of way.

He didn't answer and his expression didn't change. In fact, he looked like he had finally figured something out, like a tricky puzzle piece that had finally fit into place. The wind whipped his hair up and ruffled his clothes as his face shifted closer to hers. Ashe felt the cold wind penetrate her thin cotton shirt and shivered slightly. She had never really looked into Jack's eyes before, but now she stared into them, only inches from her face. They were a dazzling cold blue, like an ancient glacier. They seemed to drill a hole through her own eyes into her very soul, but Ashe couldn't look away. She barely noticed when his hands enveloped her upper arms, pulling her closer to him. She squirmed under his scrutiny. Panic seared through her mind. She had to look away, had to get away. What if he saw her past, her true past? What if he saw the one thing he couldn't find out? What if he saw…?

His eyes kept coming closer until all she could see were those beautiful, ice cold orbs. He now held her pressed against him, his arms encircling her waist. His eyes hadn't lost their searching quality, but something else was now reflected in them – compassion, warmth, comfort. She suddenly felt like she was being silly. Of course he couldn't see her past just by looking at her; she just didn't like looking people in the eye. She usually avoided eye contact with others, feeling that it gave too much of herself away. Against her will, Ashe felt the old fear of being touched come roaring back.

Before she could say a word, Jack spoke, so close his lips brushed hers. His voice was deeper than she remembered, though it might have been the close proximity. She still couldn't escape those eyes…

"Ashe," he asked, "Who are you?"

Ashe trembled, both from the cold and from the nerves that had suddenly begun wrack her body. She realized that he had her backed against the railing. The cold metal of the rail dug into her back when she squirmed again, trying to break his grip.

"Jack…" she started breathlessly, but never got a chance to finish because at that moment he lowered his head slightly and kissed her.

Ashe felt shock and panic reverberate through her body. She hadn't come near a man in over eight years, let alone kissed one. In fact, Ashe couldn't remember ever being kissed; at least, not like this. In her high school years, the boys who had dated her had kissed her, but it had been more to silence her protests than out of any real passion. But now…

Ashe's eyes drifted closed. Once free from the spell of his eyes, she suddenly realized how close he really was to her. His arms were wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly against him. Unlike all the others, his kiss wasn't forcing her into anything; it was more like an invitation that she was free to decline at any time. He seemed to sense and understand her inexperience, so rather than pushing her he held back, waiting until she was ready before taking it any farther. It was because of this that Ashe didn't pull away, as her mind was screaming at her to do. She relaxed against him and brought her arms forward to wrap around his neck. Something deep inside her warned her away, but for once she didn't listen. Ashe knew it was probably because of all the alcohol she had consumed combined with the calming effect of the sea, but she couldn't help but feeling inexplicably safe in Jack's embrace.

After a minute or so, he pulled back. Ashe opened her eyes and once again met his. They were no longer the colour of a frigid glacier but the warm hue of the sea near her childhood home. Another gust of Arctic wind hit her from the back, blowing her hair into Jack's face and sending a shiver up her spine. Smiling apologetically, Ashe gathered her hair and tugged into place behind her head with the elastic she kept around her wrist. She lowered her eyes from his gaze, remembering the question he had asked her before he had kissed her. Who was she?

She gently extricated herself from his embrace and turned again to face the horizon. The harsh cold wind turned her tears to ice water on her cheeks. She felt she owed him an answer, but what could she say? She wasn't anything. She was the invisible girl who had grown into an invisible woman and then disappeared from the face of the earth. Now, two years later, she was still trying to figure out what exactly she was.

* * *

Jack cursed himself. He hadn't meant to do that. He had been so close, so very close to breaking through that wall. Getting her drunk had worked marvelously; she had opened up about her past and her feelings. Jack had felt her start to trust him and had played that trust for all it was worth. 

He had used his powers to wrap his will around her, slowly ensnaring her mind and plying it to his purposes. He had felt that insurmountable wall around her soul start to wobble. Cracks had appeared; it was getting thinner. It had all been working wonderfully until suddenly everything had snapped. She had somehow blocked him completely and he had found himself holding her over the rail and staring into her eyes.

Unable to resist temptation, he had kissed her, rationalizing that at least this way he knew she trusted him far more than she had before. In truth, he was extremely attracted to her, though he would never admit it, even to himself. To admit it would be to admit weakness, and weakness was something he couldn't afford right now.

Ashe didn't have much time left. Either she let him in before the day was over or to hell with his plan. He could come up with another plan; he didn't need her. If she resisted him for much longer, he would have to kill her. He honestly didn't want to do it, but too much rested on his success aboard this ship. And besides, she was a passenger. She would die sooner or later anyway.

She turned away from him to lean against the rail again. She stared out at the water for a few minutes before finally saying, "I don't know."

"What?" he asked, moving beside her so that he could see her face. It was streaked with tears.

She sniffed and said, "You asked me who I am. I don't know who I am. Or more precisely, what I am."

Jack moved closer and reached out to turn her head towards him. When she was facing him, he asked her again, "Ashe, what happened to you two years ago?"

Her eyes filled with tears and she pulled away. "I can't tell you," she whispered, "please don't ask, because I can't tell you."

Jack scowled. This was going nowhere. He realized that the key to the secrets she kept behind that wall lay in some tragic event that had happened to her two years ago. Everything she had told him about her past seemed to stop there, and then suddenly start again right here, on the 'Arctic Pearl'. She had been away for those two years, somewhere away from the few things that made her happy. If she hadn't been fucked up before than, Jack was willing to bet that those two years of her life would have done it for sure. Against his will, he found himself feeling sorry for Ashe. The kid had had a shitty life, no doubt about that. And it was about to end very soon.

"Ashe…" Jack said, "Ashe, I'm sorry. I won't push you. Everyone's entitled to their secrets." He smiled. "I have a few of my own that I wouldn't be willing to share with anybody."

'Not quite true', he amended to himself, 'I am willing to tell people my secrets. But not before they're staring down the sharp end of my knife.'

Ashe turned toward him, a look of pained relief on her face.

"Thanks Jack," she said softly, "I knew you'd understand."

'Goddammit,' Jack thought, 'why does she have to be so fragile? And why does that have to somehow turn me on?'

He managed to restrain himself for about ten seconds before giving in. He reached out and pulled her to him again, this time with one arm around her waist and one hand cupping the back of her head.

"Fuck it," he mumbled before kissing her again.


	9. Revelations

Disclaimer: Yep, still no ownage. None at all, not even the slightest bit. (sniff).

A/N: Thanks to all you wonderful people who reviewed, I forgot the Author's Note in the last chapter but I don't forget about you guys. I LOVE YOU PAPA SMURF!! Thanks so much for your support, you have no idea how much it means to me. ITNOR can tell you that every time I get a new review I smile for days. Now, on with the story…

Chapter 9

Murphy closed his eyes, trying to block the memories that came flooding back to his tired mind, memories that were still raw and painful. After leaving the Blue Oyster Pub, Murphy hadn't returned to the dark, dank hold where his former crew resided. He found he had needed some air. So he had retreated to the lower exterior deck of the 'Arctic Pearl'. Murphy had stared out at sea as was his custom for a long time, losing track of the hours as he contemplated his past and the child he had never known nor acknowledged. Regrets and old emotions he had long since buried were laid bare by the cold wind and blue horizon around him as he dredged up memories of the one woman he had ever truly loved and the relentless mistress that he had left her for – the sea. Tears ran down his face and his shoulders slumped as he leaned over the rail, his eyes roving restlessly over the moving waters below, searching for nothing and finding it.

After an undefined amount of time, Murphy wiped his eyes and decided he had better head back inside before Ferriman realized he had been away. He had decided nothing in the time he had spent, but had come to some hard conclusions about himself. He had no answers, but had realized the right questions to ask. He was weary and cold and for the first time ever he felt his age bearing down upon him. The Mark shot twinges of pain up his arm all the way to his shoulder, causing him to cringe. Murphy felt like an old man.

Murphy had always loved looking at the sea, and one reason he had chosen to be a professional salvager was because he couldn't stand not being around the sea. It was the reason he had found himself incapable of settling down and starting a family twenty four years ago. The reason Ashe's childhood had been just as short and miserable as his own had been.

Now, Murphy found the thought of returning to the dank cargo hold after spending so long with this magnificent view to be irritating, at the very least. He resolved to take one walk around the deck and then retire. If Ferriman realized that Murphy had strayed off then to hell with him. Murphy wasn't afraid of the bastard.

Slowly ambling around to the fore of the ship, Murphy heard voices around the corner, one male and one female. The female voice sounded so familiar, its melodic tones washing over him along with the bittersweet memories it conjured. The voice whispered something incomprehensible, and then both voices were silent. Thinking that the couple had gone inside to escape the wind and ominous clouds overhead, Murphy stepped around the corner.

The sight that met Murphy's eyes was the stuff that fathers' nightmares are made of. There was his only daughter, his sole seed and heir, in the arms of the bastard that had killed him. Ferriman had his fingers entwined in Ashe's hair, his head bent over hers. The girl leaned against the railing, her hands placed lightly on his hips. The two of them looked oblivious to the world around them.

There's an expression that says that when you experience true fury, you see the world through a red tint. Murphy had never experienced this before, but now he did. His hands clenched convulsively, and then slackened. This happened a few times before Murphy's mind could once again process information. His breathing had become ragged and his eyes stared unblinkingly at the unsuspecting couple before him.

Before he could think of anything else, Murphy lost control.

"You get the hell away from her, you bastard!" he called. His voice rang out in a lull between gusts of wind, and they heard him loud and clear. Ashe jerked in surprise and Ferriman's head whipped around to fix Murphy with a death glare. Murphy gasped as his right hand exploded with blinding pain. Fighting down a scream, Murphy raised his voice again,

"You heard me Ferriman. I said get away from her!"

The furious glare left Ferriman's face as quickly as it had come, leaving behind an unsettling and dangerous calm. Too calm. Ferriman smiled a lazy smile, sending a shiver up Murphy's spine. That smile promised pain.

Without a word, Ferriman released Ashe from his grip. She sunk back against the railing, giving Murphy a funny look. Jack stepped away from her, that lazy smile playing upon his deathly calm face. Murphy stared into his glacial eyes, not backing down. The two faced off for a few moments before Ferriman finally turned to Ashe, breaking eye contact. The mask of dangerous calm left the young man's face as he gently touched her shoulder.

"I'll see you later Ashe." He flashed a fake smile and turned toward the door. He flung it open and was gone.

Murphy sagged in the aftermath of the burning pain of the Mark. Had Ferriman not turned away when he had, Murphy would have broken under that stare. When his breathing and heart rate returned to normal, Murphy turned to find Ashe still there, staring at him curiously. When his eyes met his, she looked away shyly. He knew he couldn't face her, couldn't tell her the truth. She had suffered too much, had too much bitterness. If she knew, she would most likely never forgive him, and his warnings would fall on unwilling ears. But he had to warn her, had to alert her to the fact that there was something very amiss on this ship. Another dart of pain seared Murphy's arm, and he flinched. He had to hold out now, had to keep fighting, no longer for the sake of the people on this ship, but for his daughter. Seeing that she was turning to leave, Murphy called out to her.

"Ashe, wait."

* * *

Ashe didn't know how to feel. Embarrassed, certainly. She had never been caught kissing in public before. And that man…the same one she had caught staring at her in the Blue Oyster pub earlier. What part did he play in all this? Ashe started to get an uneasy feeling as the effects of the alcohol in her blood started to die away. There was something going on here, and she had the distinct feeling that she was ignoring something very important. 

Once Jack left to go inside, leaving her alone with the other man, Ashe shook her head to clear it. The way the two men had stared at each other had suggested old enmity, and she had another feeling suggesting that despite the fact that he had withdrawn, Jack appeared to have been winning.

Ashe turned to look at the older man. He slumped against the rail a few meters from her, his eyes closed and his breathing deliberately slow. As the effects of the beer continued to subside, Ashe was hit with the enormity of what she had just done. She had told Jack…almost everything. She had told him about her past, about herself and her family. She had allowed herself to trust him. Tears filled Ashe's eyes before she blinked them away. Now that Jack was gone, she felt incredibly stupid and naïve. Not to mention that her previous feelings of safety were gone, blown away in the wind with Jack's departure.

Suddenly, the other man turned to face her. She looked away quickly, remembering when he had done the same thing in the pub earlier. Her fear of being stared at returned with a jolt, leaving her feeling sick. She took one last glance at the man before bolting for the door, determined to return to her room and have a good cry. But his voice stopped her, hitting her from behind in a gust of wind.

"Ashe, wait."

How did he know her name? Panic seared through her. He couldn't possibly be the one she was looking for… Ashe hesitated before turning around, but then felt very stupid indeed. Of course. The man must have heard Jack's parting words to her. Shaking her head slightly at her paranoia, Ashe turned to face the man.

"Yes?"

She caught his gaze, and was surprised at the hurt and anguish displayed there. She took a hesitant step closer, her abhorrence of people magnified after being absent all afternoon. His dark hair whipped around his face in the wind, matching Ashe's. Her ponytail must have slipped loose while she was…a blush crept across Ashe's face as she remembered what this man had just caught her doing. 'Never again,' Ashe promised herself, 'Never again.'

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" the man replied, motioning to the rail beside him.

Ashe's eyes narrowed slightly, but she reluctantly strode over and leaned against the railing, facing out to sea. She closed her eyes, steadying her breathing and using the lulling effect of the sea to calm her nerves. Why were all these people noticing her all of a sudden?

When she turned to face the older man, she found him in the same posture as she was, staring out at the horizon. A flash of something passed through Ashe, but she didn't investigate what it was. She found she didn't really want to know. The guy turned to her.

"Makes you wish you were out there, doesn't it?" he murmured, "Out amongst that blue world where you can make your own rules."

Surprised, Ashe turned to look at him. His eyes were fixed on her with an expression she could almost call fatherly. He looked sad, beaten, as if he couldn't take any more of the world's torture. He looked like she often felt. His gaze never left her, wandering over her face, seeming to drink her in. Ashe was starting to feel a bit weirded out around this guy, but she decided to hear him out, since he had taken the time to call her over.

After a few moments of silence, during which the two of them stared out to sea, he turned to her and held out his hand.

"I don't think I've introduced myself. I'm Sean Murphy."

Ashe clasped his hand. His grip was firm and his hands felt rough, as if he was accustomed to manual work.

"I've seen you before," she replied, "in the Blue Oyster. You seemed interested in me for some reason." She left it there, letting a hint of question seep into her voice. She wanted an explanation as to what he had to do with Jack and why he was so opposed to him kissing her.

Instead, she received a shocked look. Murphy's eyes narrowed and his brows knitted together.

"You saw me?" he asked in a voice that held a touch of an Irish accent. For some reason, this seemed to alarm him.

"Yeah," Ashe replied, attempting to figure out why that would bother him so much, "I have this thing, I guess. I know when someone's watching me."

This did little to ease him, but he quickly covered up his bewilderment. There was definitely something going on here that Ashe didn't like, and she was afraid she knew what it was. A few reactions crossed her mind, but she would have to make sure he was the one before confronting him. Words flashed through her mind, memories and veiled threats.

"Find him, Ashe..."

"Stop him..."

"This is your second chance..."

"Your only second chance…"

"I should go," she told Murphy hurriedly, feeling her fear of strangers and speaking to people come flooding back. It was all she could do not to bolt off. Instead, she calmly swung her purse back onto her shoulder and took off at a fast walk toward the door, telling herself she hadn't seen that hurt look in his eyes.

When she got back to her apartment, Ashe collapsed on the bed, shaking like a leaf. She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth, terror and uncertainty warring within her.

Pulling up her shirt, Ashe fingered the tiny scar above her navel. It ran in a thin line from one bottom rib to the other. Ashe traced the scar a few times, feeling the weight of the charge laid upon her. She couldn't do this, she couldn't! She was small, invisible Ashe from Victoria, who nobody paid attention to and never speaks to anyone. How was she supposed to do what they had asked of her?

Ashe replaced her shirt as the memories started to flood back. She groaned and collapsed onto the bed, trying to fight back the pain and the fear. After a day of being free of her fears, Ashe felt them all tumbling back onto her. She squeezed her eyes shut, but tears leaked through them. What had she done?

* * *

Jack made sure the halls were clear of any prying eyes before vanishing and reappearing belowdecks with the gold and his crew. 

With a scream of rage, he kicked the nearest thing he could find, which happened to be a crate. One of the boards flew off in the impact and went sailing across the room.

"FUCK!"

The four men in the room whipped around to stare at Jack, who turned on them.

"What the fuck's wrong with you?" Munder asked. He soon regretted these words as a steel pipe dislodged itself from some mechanics and flew across the room at him.

"Why didn't you stop him?" Jack cried as another piece of metal went zooming through Dodge's insubstantial head to hit the far wall.

The ghostly men looked around at each other and realized, entirely too late, that one was missing from their midst.

"Oh. Oops." Munder cringed and ducked as a discarded wrench went flying past his ear.

Jack fumed. He couldn't believe it. He had been so close, so CLOSE! Getting Ashe drunk had worked a charm. The brick wall around her had seemed to falter. Tiny, hairline cracks had appeared. It hadn't been much, but Jack had taken the chance, pushing his power through those tiny cracks and holes. He hadn't been able to gain any information, but he had hooked himself around her, connecting them and feeding her feelings of understanding and support, working at her like clay until she was ready to tell him anything he asked of her. He had been so close, so very close. Another few minutes and he would have had her.

But Murphy had ruined everything. He had interrupted at the crucial moment, when Jack would either risk losing Ashe's trust by forcing Murphy to leave, or lose the connection by walking away. Jack had chosen to leave. That way the trust that Ashe had given him had a chance of being repaired.

Jack didn't know if it was possible to rebuild that bond, but he was willing to give it one more try. After all, if Ashe let him in, she may just prove useful to his plans. It would be a terrible thing to waste, but her time was quickly running out.

He turned back toward his 'crew', trying hard to steady his breathing. Murphy would pay for his intrusion. Enough was enough. Murphy had had his taste of rebellion, now it was time for Jack to take control of the situation. But first, he would deal with the idiots that let Murphy get out in the first place.

"What happened?" Dodge was asking.

Jack gave a short laugh. "What happened?" he repeated, "What happened is that your old buddy lost me my last chance at getting through to that bitch. I was so close, I HAD her!" Jack clenched his fist to his chest to emphasize his point, and then slammed it into the side of the enormous steel pipe he was leaning against. "He made a scene, called attention to himself. Forced me to leave, the fucking idiot!"

Jack gave another cry of rage, venting more of his anger and frustration by causing a chain to snap high above. The pipe that the chain had held up came crashing down on his companions, forcing them to scatter.

Jack's hands rose to press into his temples, fighting the headache that threatened. He didn't need this stress now. He couldn't afford to lose time or concentration now, when he was so close to the edge. Management wasn't happy with his last mistake, and he couldn't afford to fuck up again. He needed to get his act together, and that started with getting control of his charges. Ignoring the cursing and shouting from his companions, Jack turned his back on them and sent his mind out towards Murphy's. He found the old man exactly where Jack had left him. Ashe was with him, but as Jack watched she left, probably to return to her room.

Jack watched and waited. Murphy had nowhere else to go. Eventually, he would return belowdecks. And when he did…

A cruel smile twisted Jacks features as he sat down on a crate to wait.

* * *

Murphy wanted to call out to her, to drag her back, to hold her down; anything so that he could warn her of the danger she was putting herself into. But he couldn't. He hadn't realized how afraid she truly was of speaking to people, but no matter how hard she tried to hide it, the look in her eyes had been that of blatant mistrust and fear. Ferriman had been right; the girl had problems. And it was all Murphy's fault. 

As she turned to walk away, Murphy's arm rose, almost as if to grab her own arm, but he let it fall to his side as she swung through the door. Her carefully unhurried step showed just how much she wanted to escape him.

His daughter…The daughter he had always had, but had never wanted. Murphy didn't want to make himself think about how different things might have been for her had he stayed, had he taken responsibility. Until now, Murphy had put the guilt at the back of his mind, letting it sit there until he had forgotten it, until he was able to live without the shadow of his mistakes haunting him. And now there she was, damaged and unstable, fragile and fearful, because of a past that was devoid of any parental love or friendly support. And now, unless Murphy could do something, she was going to die. She would die without knowing, without ever feeling what it was to be loved, truly loved. And it was all Murphy's fault.

He sighed, fighting back the tears of self-loathing that threatened to overwhelm him. He knew he had to go back to the hold sometime, had to face Ferriman's ire. He didn't care what Ferriman did to him. He deserved whatever pain the bastard inflicted. But he would keep fighting. Because if Ashe died here, alone and afraid, Murphy knew he would never forgive himself.

Murphy started to make his way slowly toward the bottom decks, making himself invisible to the living eye once again. He didn't want to be seen right now.

If Ashe was Marked she would be trapped here on this ship with him, and having to face the sad, fragile girl that his selfishness had helped create would be a torture he couldn't possibly stand. The pain would haunt him every hour of every day for the better part of eternity, and compared to that prospect Murphy would take any pain Ferriman or anyone else dished him out. Because it was only what he deserved.

With a sigh of resignation, Murphy opened the door to the cargo hold and thumped down the stairs, eyeing the chaos Ferriman's burst of temper had created with apprehension. Ignoring his former crewmates, Murphy's eyes swung to Ferriman, sitting on a crate with his back turned.

As Murphy descended the last stair, he materialized. Ferriman had undoubtedly felt him coming, and this assumption was proved correct when, without turning, Ferriman spoke.

"Welcome back, Murphy. Did you enjoy your walk? I hope so, because it's the last thing you do as a free soul."

With that, Ferriman whipped around to face Murphy and their eyes locked.

Ferriman's eyes were like chunks of brilliant blue ice. They bored into Murphy's very being, tore through his mind like an arrow. Murphy's hand erupted in pain so intense that he was driven to his knees. The pain slowly spread up his arm until he could no longer see anything but those icy blue orbs that seemed to glow against the darkness of the large room. At that moment, Murphy knew that Ferriman's intent was to break him, to enslave his soul completely so that he could no longer disobey.

From far away, Murphy felt his body collapse to the ground, screaming in agony. But that no longer mattered. What mattered was the battle that raged internally, a simple battle of wills between the soul collector and his charge.

Ferriman's voice came into Murphy's mind, a whiplash that cut his mind as effectively as any exterior pain.

"Give it up old man. You're not as strong as you used to be. There's no point in holding out, you'll only do yourself more damage. You can't win, and you can't escape. I'm just going to keep pushing harder and harder until you break, and there's nothing you can do to stop me. Give in now and save yourself a lot of pain."

Murphy tried to fight against the pressure that built up in the back of his mind, the realization that submission was the only way out.

"Damn you, Ferriman, I won't give up yet! I won't give in until she's safe!" The words bubbled forth in his mind before he could stop them and he regretted them immediately when he felt Ferriman's suspicion and curiosity.

"Until who's free?"

Murphy knew he couldn't lie, not when Ferriman had him like this. He sighed with resignation.

"Ashe. Leave her alone, Ferriman. I'm warning you."

Murphy felt Ferriman smirk. "You think you can scare me, old man? Why should I leave her alone? Why's she so important to you?"

Murphy had been dreading that question, but knew that he had to answer it. Ferriman would know if he was lying, and he had ways of finding out anyway.

"She's…she's my…"

"She's what, Murphy? Spit it out, I don't have all day."

A surge of rage and hatred welled up inside Murphy's pain-filled mind, a rage so intense that for a moment the pain paled in comparison.

"Because, you fucking bastard, she's my daughter."


	10. Fragile

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything that you recognize. Sorry girls, Jack Ferriman will not be available for rent at this time.

Chapter 10

Jack froze as his mind worked over the complications of Murphy's revelation. Shocked, he let his grip on Murphy's mind go. The man collapsed to the floor as the pain ceased, shaking and breathing harshly.

Jack ignored this and puzzled over this new bit of information. His head was pounding.

'Why did I get myself into this shit?' he thought for the first time since his death, 'Why did I agree to do this? I should have just gone to Hell where I belong; I wouldn't have had to deal with all this drama.'

Jack massaged his temples and started to pace, ignoring his companions behind him. Jack knew Murphy was telling him the truth; he couldn't have lied while Jack was in his head like that. The more Jack thought about it, the more it made sense. Ashe was about the right age to be Murphy's offspring, she certainly shared his passion for the sea and boats, and now that he thought about it, they had some of the same facial features and expressions.

A chuckle worked its way up Jack's throat, soon turning into hysterical laughter. Why did this have to happen? Why did things have to go and get so goddamned complicated? Jack doubled up, grasping his side as he tried to quell the laughter. Greer, Dodge, Munder and Santos had all turned to face him, giving him looks that suggested they believed him thoroughly insane. Even Murphy, his chest heaving and sweat pouring down his face, raised his eyebrows in Jack direction.

If there was one thing Jack prided himself on, it was his sanity. Fifty years of being both alive and dead, killing thousands and spending most of his time at sea, and he was still sharp as a tack. But as the implications of Murphy's words washed over him, he started to think that maybe they were right. Maybe he was finally losing his mind.

Jack stopped laughing as suddenly as he had started as he realized how very un-amusing this situation was.

"Shit…" he muttered, and then he looked up and spoke sharply to his crew, "What the fuck are you looking at?"

Greer snorted, Munder shook his head and Dodge pointed to his temple so to say 'he's out of his mind'. They all turned around, leaving Murphy's prone form on the ground. The old man was still getting over the after-effects of Jack's intrusion.

Jack strode over to Murphy, knowing what had to be done. He looked down at the man who had fought him so hard.

"You're time is almost up, old man. You've got a little reprieve right now, but when I get back, I'm gonna finish what I started. Enjoy your freedom while it lasts."

Murphy looked up at Jack with a look of utmost loathing on his face. But to Jack's intense pleasure, the old seaman's eyes also held fear and dread.

"Where are you going?" Murphy asked sharply, letting Jack know that the man knew exactly where Jack was going.

"I'm going to have a chat with your little girl, Murphy," Jack sneered, enjoying the look of hatred on the other man's face, "She was getting pretty cozy with me earlier, who knows? We might not even need to leave her bedroom."

Jack barked a laugh when Murphy bared his teeth at him. Jack was having fun baiting the old guy; he was easy to get a rise out of.

"But," Jack started again in a conversational tone, "Perhaps she's just too emotionally fragile for that type of relationship. After all, she had a pretty shitty childhood. You know, she told me when she was drunk that she's never felt loved, Murphy, not once in her life. I wonder how differently things might have turned out had she had a father figure in her life, eh? I wonder if she wouldn't have cried herself to sleep every night, feeling like she would never find anyone that loved her."

Lies, of course. Ashe had never said anything of the sort, but Jack took pleasure driving in each word like an arrow through Murphy's heart, watching the old man's heart break as his own fears were affirmed.

"You never gave her what she needed, Murphy," Jack continued, "You never loved her, you left her and her mother to live in poverty. Her mother's dead, you know. She took up smoking after you left, and now she's dead of lung cancer." Jack smirked. "I wonder who's fault that is?"

Murphy looked like he couldn't take any more, but Jack had to say this one last thing, had to make sure Murphy was so badly beaten that he wouldn't think of doing something to fuck things up even more.

"You know what she told me, Murphy? She told me that I was the only man she's ever trusted. She told me that I was the only one who understood her. It's surprisingly easy to work her mind into thinking I care about her, you know. She's needy, she's depressed, she needs someone to lean on. I have her wrapped around my little finger now, Murphy. She'll do exactly what I want her to do."

Jack let that sink in, giving Murphy plenty of time to think about what Jack could do to – and with – Ashe. Then he drove the knife home.

"And if she doesn't, I'll kill her. And you know what, Murphy? Before she dies, I'll tell her about you, that you've been alive up until now but that you've never tried to acknowledge her. I'll make her hate you. And then I'll kill her."

Just then, Murphy lunged at Jack, aiming for his legs to take him down. Another burst of pain through the Mark stopped that notion. Once Murphy had stopped screaming, Jack continued.

"It's sooner or later, Murphy. I kill her now or she dies later, there's no way around it. But if she's gonna be a pain in the ass, it's going to be sooner. And you know what? I'm going to enjoy Marking her. I'm going to enjoy making her my property, because there'll be absolutely nothing you can do about it. Face it Murphy, you're beat. Now if you'll excuse me, I should be going."

Jack stepped over Murphy's form while ignoring the older man's curses and expletives. Jack bounded up the steps to the door leading out of the hold, and as he opened the door to leave he shot a glare at the rest of his crew.

"Keep an eye on him this time," Jack growled in their direction, "No more mistakes."

Jack swung through the door and shook his head to clear it. He grasped his head and muttered a few choice phrases of his own invention that were delightfully obscene, then sent his mind out to look for Ashe. He found her where he had expected to: her cabin. Opting to walk, Jack set a pace for the lowest cabin deck, wondering why he had ever thought this ship would be easier than the last.

* * *

Ashe swam through dreams made up of memories. She twisted and turned on her bed as the images appeared out of the haze of her sleeping mind. 

_Ashe walked through the dark mist, its black arms constantly swirling around her. The narrow path was littered with stones and briars, but she kept going. She knew she could never go back the way she came._

_Shadows leaped at her from the corners of her vision, but as she turned to face them they disappeared. Voices whispered around her, though there was nobody to be seen amidst the swirling black mist. Shouts, screams, came from all directions. Ashe trembled, bleeding profusely._

_"Help!" she called, "Is anybody there? Where am I?"_

_Suddenly, a dark shape loomed out of the mist. As she drew nearer, never straying off the narrow path through the darkness, the shape made itself out to be a huge, ornately carved wrought-iron gate. It stretched far above her head, and she had to crane her neck to view the spectacular gold piece adorning its center topmost spire. Ashe glanced back down the path she had been following, only to find that it had been wiped away behind her. Her white shirt was soaked with her own blood, but somehow Ashe knew that no longer mattered. Panic seized her as the voices drew closer, their whispering growing louder in her ear._

_They were all watching her! They were all seeing her, judging her just like all the others! There were too many, too many! Ashe screamed as the wrought-iron gates flew open to reveal a sight that had haunted her dreams for two years since, a sight nobody would ever forget once they saw it. She saw what countless people had seen before her upon crossing the threshold of the gates. She saw what her life had become._

* * *

Jack stopped halfway down the corridor leading to Ashe's cabin and narrowed his eyes, concentrating. The sound stopped, but Jack kept his ears open as he crept the rest of the way along the corridor to cabin number 228. He knew that sound too well, mostly because he was usually the one to cause it. It was the sound of screaming. 

Hepaused outside Ashe's door, collecting himself to knock. Then he heard it again: a feminine scream of pain and fear. It was coming from behind the door.

"Ashe!" Jack called, pounding on the door, "Ashe, are you in there? What's going on? Ashe!"

Jack tried the door but of course it was locked. The screaming had stopped, leaving in its place an eerie silence. A man poked his head out of a door down the hall and gave Jack a dirty look, but retreated without a word when he glimpsed the look on Jack's face.

Something was wrong. Jack raised his hand to knock again, but just then the door swung open to reveal a sorry-looking creature with dried tears on her face. Ashe.

* * *

Ashe awoke to the sound of screaming and a fierce pounding. As she woke, the screams died away, but the pounding continued. It was coming from the direction of her door! 

Shewas aware that she looked like shit. Her shirt was rumpled and her hair was a tangled mass from the stresses of the day: rain, smoke, wind and nightmares. Her mascara had run down her face and she was soaked in cold sweat.

"Hang on a minute!" Ashe called to the knocker, wondering with a pang of fear if it was that man from the deck again.

'Yeah, right, Ashe,' she thought as she rose on shaky legs that somehow managed to hold her weight through the aftershock of her dreams, 'You wish. You wish someone would come knocking at your door. They've probably just got the wrong room number or something.'

Ashe's muscles seemed made of jelly as she padded the way to her door. She wrenched it open and stared at the man with his fist cocked back, prepared to take another go at her door.

"Jack?"

Jack took a step back in surprise, lowered his fist and eyes her warily.

"I heard you screaming," he said with a frown, "What's going on?"

So that's where the screams had come from. Ashe winced as she remembered the bloodcurdling wail she had heard upon waking, recognizing it now from the countless other nights she awoken shaken from the memories.

"Oh, that," she said with a shaky laugh and a dismissive shrug, "I was just taking a nap. I had a nightmare."

Jack frowned and Ashe blushed as his eyes traveled over the state of her clothes and hair, then to the makeup mixed with dried tears running down her face. He obviously didn't believe her show of nonchalance for a moment.

"Can I come in for a sec?" he asked suspiciously, peering past her into her room.

"Uh…sure," Ashe conceded slowly, backing out of the doorway and allowing him room to pass. He brushed past her and strode to her bedroom. He threw a cursory glance around the room, as if checking for hidden danger, and then his eyes fell on the bed. The red print bedspread lay on the floor in a heap; she must have kicked it out from under herself at some point. The sheets lay exposed and considerably rumpled. Jack turned to face Ashe, an incredulous eyebrow raised.

"Some nightmare," he said softly.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Ashe cut in front of him, blocking his view of the bed.

"So Jack, what are you doing here?" she asked, then realizing that sounded awfully rude she added, "I mean, why were you outside my room when I screamed?"

Ashe tried desperately to restore some order to her hair and failed miserably, only making her more uncomfortable. She had just realized that Jack was between her and the door, which he had closed behind him, meaning that if Ashe wanted to get out she would have to get around him. He took a step towards her and she took a half-step back.

"Actually," he said after a short but pronounced pause, "I was wondering if you'd like to join me for dinner up in the ballroom. That's if you haven't eaten yet, of course."

He smiled at her briefly and took another step forward. He had changed since that afternoon on the deck, and he now wore a simple, perfectly-tailored suit, though his dark hair was still mussed from the wind. His eyes no longer held any hint of the predatory stare they had possessed earlier, only a warm, inviting glow. Inexplicably, Ashe felt the emotions from the deck earlier leaking slowly back into her mind. She wondered why she had been nervous; it was only Jack. Jack, who had listened to and understood her. Jack, who had kissed her twice.

She smiled back and nodded slowly.

"I'd love that," she replied, "Just let me get cleaned up a bit." She motioned to her disgruntled appearance. Jack nodded and went to sit down in the desk chair. Fighting down a sigh, Ashe crossed to her suitcase and drew out what she would need. She went into the bathroom and closed the door. She sat down hard on the edge of the bathtub and put her head in her hands, letting out a small groan. What had she gotten herself into? She hated being around crowds, yet she had just agreed to dinner in the great ballroom with hundreds of strangers! What was wrong with her? Mentally smacking herself over the head, Ashe debated going back out and telling Jack that she couldn't go. After a few moments, she decided against it.

'Ashe,' she reprimanded herself, 'You're here for a reason. Staying locked in your cabin the whole trip will not do you or anyone else any good. You've got to at least try.'

Nodding, Ashe got up. She slipped out of her clothes and took a quick shower. After toweling dry her hair, she brushed it up into a knot at the back of her head that she could never get quite the way she wanted it to. Grimacing, Ashe decided that it was the best it was going to get. Knowing that dinner in the ballroom was a formal affair, she donned a black floor-length dress and her black strappy sandals. Applying a fresh dose of mascara and lipstick, she checked herself over in the mirror multiple times from all angles before concluding that she looked at least half decent.

Breathing a deep sigh, Ashe exited the bathroom and, seeing Jack exactly where she had left him, gave him a weak smile.

"Okay, we can go," she said softly.

* * *

Once Ashe left the room, Jack waited until he heard the sound of the shower starting before closing his eyes and allowing himself to heave a deep sigh. He had felt her start to panic and knew that she had lost the tentative trust she had placed in him earlier. He had expected that, and had almost collapsed with relief when he realized how easy it had been to repair. All he had to do was pull the right strings, say the right things, a little eye contact and he had her. So far, so good. 

His plan: take her to dinner, let her consume a bit of wine, and hope for the best. He really didn't want to have to go to the bother of killing her yet, but if she still wasn't ready to open up to him after tonight then that was it. He couldn't afford to waste any more time, and he had a plan to put in motion as soon as possible.

Jack heard the shower shut off and looked at his watch. Time was ticking away. Time was something Jack didn't have a lot of right now, as was patience. He tapped his foot on the ground, slumping slightly in the chair. Why does it have to take women so goddamned long –

Jack straightened as he heard the bathroom door unlock and open. Ashe stepped out and Jack did a double take. That couldn't be Ashe. It couldn't be. The woman before him bore no resemblance to the meek, bedraggled thing he had walked in on a few minutes ago. She still had that fearful, shy look as if she wanted to blend in with the shadows and go unnoticed. Appraising the sleek black gown she wore, Jack figured that she might be able to blend in with the shadows in it, but she certainly wouldn't go unnoticed.

The dress was made of a strange, silky fabric that Jack had never seen before. It clasped behind her neck and came to a low V cut that showed off her cleavage. The material then wound around her torso, hugging her slender form and falling over her hips in a full, swaying skirt that fell to the floor. Her hair was pinned up into a sleek bun, with a single strand of shorter hair falling down the side of her face. As he watched, Jack saw Ashe nervously swipe it behind her ear, only to have it fall out again seconds later. From her earlobes dangled shimmering black stones. She looked terribly self-conscious, and so very delicate. Fragile, as if she were a beautiful glass figurine that would shatter if touched.

Jack felt his mouth start to water. He has always been most attracted to small, delicate women. He liked a woman that he could break easily, that he could dominate and control. One that he could mold to fit his whims and that would quietly obey him, no matter what. Right now, looking at Ashe, he knew she fit that criteria perfectly. If it wasn't for that goddamned block preventing him from seeing into her soul…

Taking a deep breath and quelling the thoughts that surfaced in his mind, Jack rose from the chair and crossed the room to her.

"You look great," he said, smiling when she looked away shyly, "Let's go."

Wrapping his mind around hers and taking her hand, Jack started slowly feeding her thoughts of reassurance and trust. 'This your last chance,' he thought silently to her, 'This is your last chance to let me in. After that, you're dead.'


	11. Slipping Away

Disclaimer: Yup, still own nothing that you recognize from the movie. Surprised? You shouldn't be.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews guys, I love you all!!! Sorry this chapter's taken so long, I've been so busy lately!!! This is a short chapter, unfortunately, but I needed to get an update up. I'm already starting on the next chappy and conceptualizing my next story. I've also changed the formatting to double-space after getting a headache reading previous chapters. I'll start reformatting all the others slowly too. Enjoy!!

Chapter 11

Ashe smiled tremulously at Jack as he extended his hand towards her, aware that his eyes roamed over her entirely too many times to be casual, and also aware of the fact that he wasn't making any effort to hide it. Great.

What the hell was wrong with her anyway? Why had she agreed to this? Whenever she was around Jack, she seemed to act like a complete fool. Why the hell was she ready to go out to dinner with a man? Why the hell had she worn this dress? What was happening to her? She was just about to say that she couldn't go after all and risk his ridicule when she glanced up toward him.

She caught his eyes and all of her fears were erased. What was she so worried about? It was only Jack, after all. Nothing to get all stressed about.

For the first time since she had met him, Ashe was suddenly aware of the creeping sense of wrongness she felt in the back of her mind when Jack was around. But while she was staring into those deep blue pools, she couldn't, she wouldn't pay attention to that. She was being over-calculating as always, trying to be a step ahead of herself.

'Time to grow up, Ashe,' she thought grimly as she placed her hand in Jack's. The contact once again brought with it that stinging sense of being ripped open and searched for something. But who, she wondered, was doing the searching? She ignored the feeling, marking it down to her nerves.

Jack smiled and led her through the door.

"You look great," he said, obviously being generous. Ashe appreciated the effort, but doubted his sincerity. She wondered again why she had chosen to wear this dress. It had been given to her prior to her departure, for the purpose of helping her with her assignment here. She suddenly felt a surge of shame that she was completely ignoring said assignment, but it passed quickly. For the first time since her birth, it seemed, Ashe was having a good time that had nothing to do with the sea or nature around her. And everything to do with the man still holding her hand as they mounted the stairs that led to the fourth deck and the dining room.

As they walked in strangely comfortable silence, Ashe tried hard not to remember the nightmare she had had. It was no different from all the other nightmares that had come to her since her ordeal two years ago, but it had been more vivid, more real. Closer. She shivered, causing Jack to look over at her inquiringly.

"Cold?" he asked, his hand snaking up her arm to wrap around her shoulders.

'Nice move,' Ashe thought dryly as she shook her head, trying not to freak out at the gesture.

"No," she said, smiling apologetically, "Just got a little chill. I'm fine, really."

Jack nodded but didn't move. Ashe frowned slightly, not liking the awkward silence that had suddenly come between them. Jack was looking at her with an odd light in his eyes, one she didn't entirely like. Once more she was struck with the sensation of something being dreadfully wrong, and this time it was harder to shake. Se wondered if she was going crazy and inwardly snorted.

'If anyone was to go crazy,' she thought bitterly, 'It would probably be me. I don't have the best record for that, do I?'

"Uh…Jack?" she said, nudging him slightly. Jack, who had been staring at her with unfocused eyes, shook his head slightly and smiled.

"Sorry," he said smoothly, "I guess I just zoned out there for a minute. Must be the rocking movement," he joked, reminding Ashe of the previous day when she had knocked into him. She blushed slightly at the memory and she couldn't tell whether she felt intensely relieved or disappointed when his arm came down from around her shoulders and got stuffed into his pocket.

They commenced walking again. The entrance to the main dining room was just around the next corner, and the muffled noises of hundreds of people eating, drinking, talking and laughing filled the hallway.

Ashe fought down a surge of panic at the thought of facing that many people. It had been one thing that afternoon in the pub to feel safe. It was quite another in a gigantic, packed ballroom.

Amazing how much had changed in a day. When Ashe had arrived onboard, she had been too skittish to go near a pair of people, let alone a room packed with them. She had not let a male within her personal space for eight years, let alone kissed one in a public place. She had never in her life been out alone with a man, and now she was going on what amounted to an unofficial date. What had changed so quickly?

Ashe glanced over to the tall brunette beside her. What was it about Jack that had brought about all these changes? Was it truly the fact that he not only noticed her but sought her out to talk? Was it the charm that seemed to drift from him to wrap around her when he looked at her?

Ashe made a face behind his back as he entered the ballroom ahead of her. What was it about Jack that made her do something stupid like go out in public and…

Oh dear god. There were so many people! They were eating, dancing, socializing. Laughing, talking, yelling to each other. Ashe felt every muscle in her body freeze and concentrated on breathing.

A few people close by glanced up as Jack walked into the ballroom, and Ashe saw the whites of their eyes. She froze, shaking like a deer in headlights. Her chest heaved and she shook her head violently. What had she been thinking? She couldn't face these many people! She was invisible Ashe that nobody noticed. She was a bitch, she was a nobody, she wasn't meant for being around people. She hated people!

Without another coherent thought, she bolted back down the hallway. Why had she agreed to come here? Why had she thought that she could possibly make a difference? How was she supposed to find the person she was looking for if she couldn't even walk into a crowded room? Why had she allowed herself to get swept away by her trust in Jack and believe even for a second that she would be alright?

She had been away from the world for too long. Tears leaked from her eyes and she wiped them furiously away as she walked quickly back to her room. She wasn't aware of any voices or footsteps behind her until someone touched her shoulder. The touch was icy cold, almost numbing, and Ashe spun around with a scream, caught up in images from her memory. She gasped in shock when the touch turned out to be that of the Sean Murphy.

The man put a finger to his lips and beckoned her toward a staircase. From the looks of it, the staircase wasn't used very often. It probably led down to one of the storage holds. So why did Murphy want her to go down there with him? Ashe could think of a few reasons.

"I don't think so," Ashe said coldly, resorting to her ice bitch mode as she always did when threatened. Memories cascaded back to her: the pack of men, the screams for help, the dark, dirty alley…

Ashe began to turn away, readying herself for a quick fight or flight if he decided to assert himself. She knew from the moment she saw him that he was trouble. The way he had looked at her up on the deck earlier…no wonder Jack didn't seem to like him.

But before she could start to continue back to her cabin, Ashe realized something. Where was Jack? Had he bothered to come after her?

Her heart fell and shattered for what seemed like the billionth time. Of course not. After all, she was nobody. Jack could have any woman he wanted; he didn't need a terrified, unstable, invisible nobody like her. Tears welled in her eyes again as she realized what a fool she had been. She had been sent here to find someone, not to fraternize with some asshole male that had come so close to…She remembered that sense of something being wrong that she had felt in her room as she had looked at him. Fury suddenly sprang up in her mind. Could it be…could he be…?

Ashe resisted the urge to club herself over the head with the wall numerous times and contented herself instead with biting her lip till it bled, trying to stop the tears from falling. What was wrong with her? How could she have been so blind, so stupid? How could she have allowed herself to hope that she could find happiness with people? People were an inconvenience, an obstacle that she had to get around in order to live the life she had always wanted, free of their confines.

Then she looked at Murphy. The old man had the look of one who had seen a lot in his lifetime. His eyes held a wisdom that came not from any books but from years of learning the ways of the world firsthand. He certainly didn't look like the kind to lure women down abandoned stairways.

Ashe was suddenly reminded of the fantasies she used to entertain about her father. She had always imagined her father with the same wisdom in his eyes, the same cynical world-weariness that Murphy's held, and yet the same contentment of a life lived well away from the confines of what others wanted, away from the pressures of being tied to a family. Ashe's mother had told her that her father was a seaman, a wanderer. Ashe saw in Murphy's eyes the gleam of one who had done what he loved for years and an appreciation of what the sea had to offer, the same appreciation she herself held.

Ashe closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them, there stood Murphy. His eyes held a calculating look as he stared at her. They were also tinged with hurt at her cold words. Giving her head a slight shake, Ashe smiled slightly.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, "I don't know what got into me."

Ashe looked at the floor for a moment, silently ashamed at her rudeness. Murphy had never done anything to harm her. She remembered his words of earlier that day:

_"Makes you wish you were out there, doesn't it? Out amongst that blue world where you can make your own rules."_

Ashe looked up with a smile. Murphy gave her a flicker of a smile in return, knowing that she had changed her mind. His arm once more beckoned down the stairwell.

"Come here, Ashe," he said softly with that slight Irish lilt, "I have to show you something."

Taking a deep breath and deciding to try once more to trust, Ashe followed his strangely silent footsteps as he led the way down the staircase.

* * *

Jack took Ashe's hand and led her out of her room. This was it. He had wasted enough time on her. If he was going to use her for his plans, he had to win her over tonight. 

Her hand was warm in his, and for a minute Jack allowed himself a small moment of anticipation. The trust he had implanted in her mind was growing, fed by the thoughts of comfort he kept pushing on her. Things were going perfectly. If he could just get past that wall, he would have her. His eyes roamed over her as he allowed his mind to wander toward what he would do once he had her under his control. It had been a long time since he had indulged in the pleasures a woman could give him, and Ashe was just the kind he liked…

Suddenly, he felt Ashe shiver beside him. He glanced over at her face, which was still pale from whatever had haunted her dreams.

"Cold?" he asked, taking the opportunity for more physical contact by putting his arm over her shoulders. She tensed but, to Jack's immense satisfaction, not as much as the previous day.

"No," she said with a faint smile, obviously lying through her teeth, "Just got a little chill. I'm fine, really."

Jack nodded slightly as he looked her over again. He didn't believe her. For the first time, he started to get an uneasy feeling. He didn't doubt that whatever had caused her this much unease both in her sleep and in waking had something to do with that mysterious ordeal she had gone through two years ago and her apparent removal from her former life. Once again he wondered what it was. That was the first thing he would find out upon gaining access to her mind and all of her dirty little secrets…

"Uh…Jack?"

His mind snapped back to the hallway to see Ashe staring at him, her eyebrows lowered into a polite frown. He shook his head slightly.

"Sorry," he said quickly, striving for his normal suavity, "I guess I just zoned out there for a minute. Must be the rocking movement."

He attempted at a joke, only causing her to blush and look at the floor. Okay, not a joke kind of girl. That was fine, because he felt the need to be serious right now. He had work to do. Sensing her growing discomfort with his arm around her, he lowered it and jammed his hand into his pocket.

They continued on their way, Ashe tensing more and more as they approached the dining hall.

Jack stepped into the ballroom and looked around. Ashe was a step or so behind him, and as he waited for her to enter his eyes narrowed slightly as he surveyed the huge space. This would be a perfect place to start his plan, but how to get everyone in here? And, that done, how would he go about killing them quickly and efficiently? His eyes traveled upwards to the chandeliers criss-crossing the ceiling like a glittering web, his lips pursing in approval. Electrical wire, heavy brass, shattering glass. Chaotic. Perfect.

His gaze lazily, casually drifted over to the doors leading to the kitchen. Those could easily be rigged to explode inward, creating a barricade. The heavy doors leading into the hall could also be blocked, but he would need willing help; help his ghosts couldn't provide him with. Help with tangible hands. That's where Ashe came in.

Jack's eyes opened wide. Wait a minute. Where was Ashe? He glanced behind him only to see the hallway clear of people. Gritting his teeth, Jack cast his mind out, seeking her. After a minute, he snarled in frustration. He couldn't find her! What the hell was going on? Maybe all the living minds in the ballroom were interfering with his senses.

Backing casually out of the doorway and back into the fluorescent-lit corridor, he leaned against the paneled wall. He tried again. Nothing. Light from the dining room poured out into the hall, mixing with the moonlight shining through a window on the opposite side. Closing his eyes, Jack fought down the unease rising in his chest and tried once again, concentrating on the feel of her.

There! By the staircase leading down to the lower hold. The hold where his crew and the gold was kept!

Something was wrong. Something was different. The small cracks and fissures he had succeeded in making in her mental wall had closed and there was now what felt like an extra layer protecting her. Like a mental barbed-wire fence that cut sharply at his own mind. What the hell was going on here?

His face set in a mask of concealed fury, Jack broke mental contact and stalked back down the corridor. This was it. He would find someone else to help his plan. Ashe was going to be of no use to him now. He had to kill her.

A small, sadistic smile bloomed on his lips as Jack thought of the advantages of her position. He would catch up with her and drag her down the stairs to the hold. Then he would make Murphy watch as he killed her. Jack's pace quickened as the thought of revenge swirled in his mind.

"This is it, Ashe," he thought, "You blew it. That was your second chance, your last chance. Now your time's up."


	12. Family

Disclaimer: See last 11 chapters. Of course, you should already have done so, if you've read this far. If you start here, you're gonna get kinda confused so please, if you haven't seen any of my other disclaimers, you should go back and read from the beginning like a good monkey. Thank you.

Chapter 12

Murphy lay in the cargo hold, his head pounding and waves of dizziness coming and going over him. He kept his eyes closed, Ferriman's damning words echoing back to him again and again.

"…You never gave her what she needed..."

"…She'll do anything I tell her to…"

"…It's surprisingly easy to make her think I care..."

Murphy pressed his hands to his head, willing the words to go away, to leave him alone, but they kept coming back, cutting him deeper and deeper each time.

The pain from the Mark had spread up his arm and enveloped his right shoulder. It was already creeping towards his chest, driving with it the sense that he didn't have much time left.

But damned if he was going to give up. Ferriman thought he had him beat with mere words, but he didn't know Murphy well enough to know that words were nothing. Words were substance to fill an empty space, but whether they meant anything was up to the listener. Murphy had never taken time to regret leaving his would-be family behind, and even knowing what he did now there was nothing he could do to change the past. He wouldn't if he could, because otherwise a lot of things would never have happened. By leaving Canada behind, Murphy had lost one family and had gained another, one that was just as real as any. Epps, Santos, Greer, Munder, Dodge. They were his family. And now Epps was lost to him, and the rest all stood there by him now, lost in another way but just as distant because they were now under that bastard's control.

Grunting slightly, Murphy pushed up onto his elbows, leaning more toward his left side to put less pressure on his right. It still hurt, but he managed to wrest himself into a sitting position, sweating and shaking. He wouldn't give up, wouldn't let Ferriman take the lives of more innocent people. He would fight until his last free breath, not just for Ashe and the family he never had, but for Epps, the daughter that he had found and had loved as if she was truly his offspring. Because he had lost her, he wouldn't, he couldn't, lose Ashe as well.

Of course, Epps wasn't lost. She was still alive. But she was lost to him, who had died and left her. She had escaped on pure chance, and Murphy felt sure that had he been a bit smarter, a bit sharper, he could have lived long enough to save not just Epps, but Greer, Munder and Dodge as well. He had failed, had lost to that evil bastard's schemes. He wasn't going to let it happen again.

With another savage heave, Murphy staggered to his feet, swaying. He clutched at an overhanging pipe for support, waiting for his vision to clear. When it did, he saw four pairs of warily amused eyes gazing at him.

"You alright there, old man?" Dodge said, a smile tugging at his lips. Murphy had known Dodge for a long time now, and so he caught the hint of concern hidden behind the blonde man's nonchalant façade. He saw it in all of their eyes. No matter how corrupted they were, these four young men were still his crew, his family. And they still cared about him.

Biting his lip, Murphy nodded slightly in response, regretting it when the world took the opportunity to begin spinning again. When it ceased, he released the pipe and managed to cross to an unoccupied crate to sit down. He hung his head between his knees, fighting the urge to vomit while the pain in his arm continued to eat away at his resolve. Not much time left. He had to get out of there fast.

Greer rose from his seat and came to sit closer to Murphy, gripping his good shoulder in a brief squeeze.

"I don't know why you try, Murph," the black man said quietly, shaking his head slightly, "I don't know why you bother. You have to give in sometime. Why not just make it easier on yourself? On all of us? We don't like seeing you suffer any more than you like experiencing it, you should know that."

Greer. His death had come right before his intended wedding. He had had a full, happy life ahead of him with a good woman. He had wanted a family, wanted to settle down in a way that Murphy had never been able to fathom. Greer had been a close friend, a good first mate. Always the voice of reason, always the calm messenger of faith, of hope. And now he was telling Murphy that there was no hope.

"Hey, Murph, you never told us you had a daughter," Munder chimed, ignoring Greer's scathing glance. Trust Munder to say the thing that was on everybody's minds without giving any thought to the emotions involved. Munder had been the clown of the group, the funny guy who spoke his mind and tended to do so before he thought about what he was saying. He had always ground a bit on Murphy's nerves, in fact had ground on everyone's nerves at times, but like in any family that annoyance had simply been a part of what made the rest of the crew like him even more. That and he was the best damn welder in the business.

"I didn't think you needed to know," Murphy replied, his voice rough with pain and exhaustion. "Besides, I never really thought about her much either. I left before she was born. Chose to forget about her. No use regretting what's already done."

Murphy wasn't sure if he believed all of that, but it was the best answer he was willing to give at the moment. He had to think of some way to escape, some way to get out of there. He was running out of time.

He slumped lower, his elbows on his knees and his forehead cradled in his hands. "I can't just stand by and watch her die. I know she'll probably never forgive me, but I need to do this. For her…and for me. So she'll remember me the way I am and not the way I would be if I gave up. Can you guys understand that?"

Murphy looked up, almost too exhausted for that much effort. It would be good to rest, to just let it all go. But not yet. He couldn't bring himself to submit just yet.

When Murphy looked up at his former crew, he saw the same in each of their expressions: the yearning to let Murphy have this one last chance warring with fear of Ferriman's wrath.

Murphy smiled at them, trying to put some of his old fire into it. He hoped it looked convincing.

"C'mon, guys. After all we've been through together, you're gonna let that bastard think he can scare you? What can he do to you that he hasn't already done? I thought…"

Murphy took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "I thought we were the dream team, guys. We were the best goddamned salvagers in the business. Nothing could stop us. And now…now you've let this amateur beat you? He's nothing compared to us. Until a few days ago, we were unstoppable. Then Ferriman shows up and does exactly what he came to do: divided us, broke up the team. He counted on the one thing he had on us, and that was the element of surprise. He used it to scare us, make us run right into his traps. He tricked us into fixing that floating piece of Hell of his and then he disposed of us. He made fools of us, took away our dignity. But now the element of surprise is gone, and guess what? He's back to being nothing. We fucked up the first time, let him use us for his little games. And you guys are just gonna sit here and let him do it again? I thought we were better than that."

Not sure if he was getting anywhere, Murphy blew out his breath, puffing out his cheeks. "Look. We fucked up on our first chance. But Ferriman made a huge mistake in keeping us here: he gave us a second chance. And if we don't use it, then we're no better than he is. Then we're nothing. I'm not gonna pretend I didn't make some bad decisions in my life. Like leaving Ashe. But I think my life credits more than just giving up. I think that second chances count. And I'm not going to give it up just because that fucker tells me to. I'm going to go up there and keep my daughter and the rest of the people on this ship alive or burn myself out trying. The only question is, are you guys gonna help me or am I going to have to force my way out of here?"

Stunned expressions met this last outburst. Murphy didn't know when he had stood up or started yelling, but he was on his feet. He stared at the four young men in front of him, willing them to somehow understand.

Greer lowered his head. "You're right, Murph. You're the only one of us who's still your own man." The black man raised his head and looked at Murphy with eyes that showed the old spark that Greer had always had, that absolute love for life and all it had to offer. "I'm not going to stop you."

Murphy nodded. "Thanks."

Munder grinned. "Hell, Murph, I always knew you were a screwloose, but now you've proved it." He stood up and slapped the older man on his good shoulder. "If you want to go up there and make some trouble, by all means do so. It'd be damn funny to watch till' Ferriman kills you. Again. Dude, you've humbled me. I'm not gonna get in the way."

Murphy smiled at the younger man, somehow comforted by Munder's sarcastic outlook. It was good to see him back to his old self, if only in that small way.

Murphy looked back at the rest of his crew.

"Santos?" he asked, regarding the Hispanic man inquiringly.

"I've got nothing to say, man. There's nothing that I can say to change your mind. I see how important to you this is. It's good to have something important to try and achieve. Go kick some ass, man. That's all I gotta say."

Murphy grinned. "Thanks Santos," he murmured.

All eyes turned to Dodge. The blonde man cleared his throat and looked up from the spot on the ground he had been studying. He pierced Murphy with a haunted look.

"Murph…I'm sorry about your family. Both of them. I know what it's like to leave something you treasure behind."

Murphy's throat clenched. He and everyone else had known about Dodge's thing for Epps, but nobody had ever mentioned it. It was an unspoken rule out on the ocean, where there was no escape from the people around you. It wouldn't have been fair to either Epps or Dodge to say anything, making them uncomfortable with each other. It had been tacitly agreed to that Dodge should handle it on his own. Now his loss shone in his eyes, reflecting Murphy's own pain at their family being separated.

Dodge closed his eyes, and Murphy released the breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding.

"Go, Murph. Save your family – at least one of them. Do it for yourself. Do it for her. Do it for me…for us."

The young man hung his head, burdened by a weight that he shouldn't have to be carrying at his age.

Murphy nodded, not trusting himself to speak. After a minute, he cleared his throat. "Thanks guys. I won't let you down. That bastard's gonna learn what it's really like to mess with the best damn salvaging crew in the business."

Without another word, Murphy rushed away, a hard lump forming in his throat. Clearing it with effort, he made his way up the staircase and tugged open the door leading to the passenger decks. His arm still throbbed, but he ignored it as best he could.

Free of the oppressing darkness of the hold, he strode along the corridor, realizing he had no idea what he was going to do. He had no clue of where to find Ashe, and even if he did, she wouldn't trust him.

Just then, he caught sight of movement down the corridor. Making himself invisible, Murphy flattened himself against the wall and watched as the figure approached. It was walking rapidly, almost stomping. As it came into view, he realized with a jolt that it was Ashe! She was crying, wiping tears furiously away with the heels of her hands. She was wearing a beautiful black dress made of some strange silky material he had never seen before that seemed to form to her, displaying everything about her to best advantage. This was quite a change from the bedraggled girl Murphy had seen in the bar. Striding toward him was a beautiful young woman. The skirt billowed around her legs like a black cloud, swishing as she walked.

'Dear god,' Murphy thought, 'What have I created?'

As Ashe passed him, he heard her muttering to herself.

"Shouldn't have come…shouldn't have listened…can't do this, can't do this…why can't I be normal…why can't I be like everyone else…how could I have been so stupid…?"

Then she was past him, storming down the hall presumably to her cabin. Without thinking, Murphy hurried to catch up. He hesitated, then made himself visible. Taking another stride forward, he gripped her shoulder.

She spun around, her face a mask of fury and fear. What Murphy saw in her eyes almost killed him. Hatred, self-loathing, fear and apprehension, and flight reflex. Like a frightened rabbit provoked enough to bite.

After a moment, recognition registered and her face settled into a politely wary expression. It was clear that she didn't want to be bothered right now, especially by him.

Without a word, Murphy put a finger to his lips, motioning her silent. He didn't know who else may be listening. He beckoned her back to the stairway behind him, needing someplace private so that he could…what? What was he going to do? And where was Ferriman?

Instantly, Ashe's eyes blazed. There was fear there, as well as indignation.

"I don't think so," she said, her voice chilly. Everything about her stance was posed for flight. Suddenly, it dawned on him what she must be thinking, what she must have thought he…

Revolted, Murphy prepared to apologize for the misunderstanding and say something else, but by then she had turned away. He watched her make to walk away from him, feeling as if his heart would explode. She didn't trust him; she even feared him. Despair rolled through him in a downward spiral, threatening to drag him down, but before he could give in, he saw her hesitate. Her back stiffened, then slumped into a posture of defeat. Slowly, she turned to face him again, a critical look on her face. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again.

Once again, Murphy was caught by her beauty. The way the black dress fell around her, her suddenly straight, defiant posture and the look of resigned trust written in her finely shaped features. She looked like her mother. She looked like an angel.

She smiled tentatively. "I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me," she said meekly. She immediately dropped her gaze to the floor a foot in front of her, visibly undecided. When she looked up again, she flashed him a smile – a real smile.

For the first time since he had met her, Ashe seemed to trust him – at least for the moment. It wasn't the familial love he yearned to somehow have, but it would do for now. Giving her his own small grin, he once more beckoned down the staircase.

"Come here, Ashe," he said quietly, gently, "I have to show you something."

He turned and led her halfway down the darkened staircase, silently relieved when, after a slight hesitation, he heard her follow.

Now, what was he going to say?

* * *

Jack couldn't believe it. He had had it all in the bag. Ashe was wrapped around his little finger, that prick Murphy had been shut up for good, or so he had thought. His plan had been well on its way to finalization. But now things were rapidly falling apart, and Jack didn't like it when things didn't go his way. 

As he rounded the corner of the corridor leading to Ashe's room, he caught a glimpse of a black skirt disappearing down a staircase – the staircase to the hold! That bastard Murphy was taking her to the hold! But the door was locked, Jack consoled himself silently. They'd never get through it if they tried.

Baring his teeth slightly, Jack's hand twitched, and a knife appeared there. A long-bladed knife, it had served him well in the past. It would do this time.

Taking a deep breath, he strode over to the staircase and flattened himself against the wall, listening to the sound of voices from down the stairs: one male, one female. He recognized both. He didn't know what Murphy had told Ashe; it didn't matter anyway. She wouldn't live long enough to do anything about it. Before the old man could say another word, one thought from Jack had him falling to his knees in agony. Jack spun around the corner, knife in hand, in time to see Murphy fall down the remaining steps leading to the metal door and sprawl in front of it, unconscious.

Ashe, confused, stared at Murphy for a minute before her instincts told her to look back. She swung around and her eyes widened when she saw Jack standing at the top of the stairwell, a menacing shadow outlined by the light from the hallway. He saw the moment when she recognized the knife in his hands and knew the truth.

"It's you!" she said, her teeth gritted. Surprisingly, her voice held no trace of fear, or even the wariness she had always known before. Her stance was defensive, but strong, her legs spaced apart as if in a fighting stance under her flowing skirt. Jack had to admit that at that moment she looked absolutely breathtaking. Her frizzy hair was starting to come out of the coil she had tied it back in, and her face was flushed with anger and distress and – tears? Her dark dress flowed around her body, making her blend in with the shadows behind her. She was no longer skittish, timid little Ashe. This girl was a fighter. And she was hot. But Jack didn't take the time to wonder what had suddenly brought about this change; he had come to do his job.

Smirking, he twirled the knife in his right hand, enjoying the feel of it after not using it for so long. Aboard the Antonia Graza, he had hardly ever had to use his own weapons, preferring to use his control over the ship to kill his victims. His knife hadn't been used since his earlier salvaging days, but that was another story entirely.

Enjoying the look of loathing on Ashe's face, even not knowing what had caused it to flare so suddenly, he reached out for her mind, trying to get a feel for what she was thinking. What he found was like an electrical storm. Forget the wall. Forget that prickly fence. This was a storm. He was not getting anywhere near her thoughts, that was for sure.

Looking in her eyes, Jack realized that she knew exactly what he had been trying to do.

"Stay away from me," she said quietly.

Jack smirked again, pretending he hadn't heard her. "So," he said casually, still twirling the knife. He had her trapped. Unless she could go through walls, she needed a key to get into the hold, and even if she did manage to get in, his minions would grab her as soon as she was through the door. She seemed to know this too, on some level. In any case, she didn't make any move to retreat.

"Not the partygoer then?" he continued, "Too bad, it's bound to get exciting tonight. But, if you'd prefer, we can just stay in."

He took a step toward her, expecting her to flinch. She didn't move, didn't even blink. He was starting to get a bad feeling about this. 'Just kill her now,' his mind whispered, 'Before she has a chance to think about it.'

"It was you," she said, appearing to talk more to herself than to him, "You're the one I'm supposed to be looking for. Of course, I haven't been doing much looking, but I didn't need to, really. You came to me, and I was too blind to figure it out…"

She trailed off, looking him up and down as if for the first time.

Jack took another step forward. And another. Nothing. She just stood there, looking at him and muttering to herself. She seemed almost amused. What could she possibly find funny about this?

Finally he stopped two steps above her. She glared up at him, his height advantage intensified by the stairs.

"You're the salvager." She said, her words striking him like a cold blow.

He didn't know what Murphy had told her, but apparently it had been enough. And she couldn't be allowed to leave this stairwell alive.

Jack flipped his knife in his hand, ready.

"Good job," he snarled, "You found me."

Without another thought, he lunged.


	13. Intervention

Disclaimer: No own...blah blah...no money...blah blah...don't sue me plz. Thankies!

A/N: Well, here we go again. I've cut this story down slightly as I've been getting less and less time to work on it, so it'll only be about 15-16 chapters. It'll still have the ending I wanted, but it'll be compacted and not as vividly described as I would have hoped. Now, it's getting close to the end, so hold on!

Chapter 13

Jack lunged forward, the knife held in front of him, aimed right for Ashe's midriff. His thoughts buzzed out of control. How could she know about him? Did Murphy tell her? Did she believe the old man over him? Why had she suddenly changed from the timid young girl he knew to this angry, slightly dangerous woman? What the hell was going on? And who the hell was she, really?

He didn't care. All he had to do was kill the bitch, mark her, and ask questions later. He didn't have time for this shit, not now, when he was already behind schedule.

Suddenly, Jack was snapped back to reality as his shoulder hit the opposite wall of the staircase. Losing his balance, he cartwheeled his arms on the edge of the stair, trying to keep from falling backwards.

Ashe was nowhere to be seen. In the split second it had taken Jack to reach her, she had vanished. What the FUCK was going on here?

* * *

Ashe sagged in a sitting position against the door, gasping for breath, her heart clogging her throat and making it hard to inhale. She concentrated on slowing down her breathing, taking one breath at a time. She was shaking, and the hand she had placed on her chest quaked with nerves. It had taken every ounce of strength she had not to react when she had seen that knife. Painful memories chased through her mind as she caught her breath. She had maybe a few minutes before Jack found her, only because he wouldn't know where to look at first. 

_-Flashback-_

She followed Murphy down the stairs, still not sure about trusting him. Halfway down, he turned and grasped her shoulders, his touch still so cold. Somehow, in the half-light, he didn't seem entirely.substantial. It made her wonder who exactly this Murphy guy was. But the look in his eyes: grief, mingled with fear and determination, calmed her trepidation a bit.

"Ashe," he said, "Ashe, this is important, you need to believe me. It's Ferriman.Jack. He's not what you think he is. He's."

But before Murphy could finish, Ashe cut him off. She had already guessed what he was going to say.

"I know," she said, taking one of his icy cold hands and squeezing it reassuringly, "I know what he is. I can't believe it took me this long to figure it out.Oh, I was so stupid." She trailed off at the arrested look in the old man's eyes.

"You know about Ferriman?" he choked, spacing his words out as if afraid that, if placed to close together, they may shatter.

"I know about the Salvager," Ashe said, watching Murphy's expression change from shock to suspicion to worry, and finally to relief.

"How-"

But Murphy never finished his question, for which Ashe might have been thankful, but for the fact that it was due to apparent pain. Murphy collapsed in on himself, moaning. Ashe reached out to help him, but just then he fell backwards, out of her reach. He tumbled into a crumpled heap at the foot of the stairs. Taking a moment to catch her balance, Ashe was ready to run down after him when the shadow passed over her. She tensed, her reflexes kicking in at a sign of danger.

Spinning around, she wasn't surprised to see Jack's form silhouetted against the light from the hallway. Her eyes flickered to the long knife in his hands. At this, images bombarded her.

A knife, a dark alleyway, screaming, no help, no hope.

Swallowing hard, she realized that knew what Jack was. There was no doubt in her mind that the thing she had been searching for had been right under her nose the whole time. And now he had come to kill her.

"It's you," she said, softly but with a deadly undertone. If he had shed his illusions, she may as well shed her own. She stood up straighter, taking a fight or flight stance, trying desperately to hide the fear and uneasiness that was growing inside her like a gale wind, ready to rip her to shreds.

Jack smiled, but there was no trace of the caring young man she had come to know. This man - thing, really - was a cold-blooded killer, pure and simple. It broke her heart.

"Stay away from me," she said, her strong command coming out as a harsh whisper.

Jack appeared not to have heard her. "So," he said, still twirling the thing, "Not the partygoer then? Too bad, it's bound to get exciting tonight. But, if you'd prefer, we can just stay in."

Knowing this was probably meant to freak her out, Ashe had to smile slightly. The man had no idea who she was. Excellent.

Jack took one step down. She fought the urge to take a step down. Hell, five steps down. She stood her ground, trembling violently. She counted on him not being able to see that in the dark stairwell. He took another step down, twirling that knife in his hands. Ashe's breath hitched. She knew there was nothing he could do to her; she was too well protected. But still, the sight of that deadly, deadly weapon.

She had to stall him, had to find some way to get the hell out of this stairway. Hyperaware of Murphy's prone form behind her and knowing now what Jack could do to the man, she knew she had to get him out, too. But how? She wasn't supposed to do this. She didn't like people, didn't like them at all. Why couldn't she just get a bloody rest already?

Before she could stop herself, she did what she always did when panicked and nervous. She babbled.

"It was you," she said, catching Jack a bit by surprise, "You're the one I'm supposed to be looking for. Of course, I haven't been doing much looking, but I didn't need to, really. You came to me, and I was too blind to figure it out."

Trailing off, Ashe closed her eyes for a second. Why her? Why did she agree to come here? Then again, what choice did she have? And how could she have been so blind, so stupid? She hadn't wanted to be here, but had let her guard down enough so that the enemy had been so close to.she didn't want to think about it, didn't want to allow herself to contemplate what Jack could have learned from her, done to her.

'God,' she thought, 'I hate myself.'

Just then, like an epiphany, she had a plan. It wasn't difficult, wasn't something she couldn't have thought of herself given enough time, but it was evident that she had been helped.

"Thanks," she muttered spitefully, "Now you decide to help me."

That said she gazed up at Jack. She looked him up and down, just now realizing that for all his bravado, he was a fairly skinny guy. Tall, yes, but not as strong as he would lead one to believe. He was still twirling the knife, but now, out of immediate danger and knowing she finally had backup watching over her, Ashe smiled a little. Let the bastard wonder what was so funny.

He took another step down. Two, three. He stopped two steps up from her, trying to be intimidating. Which he was, but Ashe was determined not to let him see that. She glared at him, working her fear and nerves like clay into a solid ball of hatred. When she spoke, it was with pure venom.

"You're the salvager."

She watched the shock register on his face for an instant before he sneered.

"Good job, you found me," he said.

Then everything happened at once. Using the power she had suddenly received from her silent helper, she was able to vanish from sight. She could only hold it for a split second, but it was enough for him to be confused. She flew down the stairs two at a time, amazingly not tripping over her skirt until she reached the bottom. She went sprawling over the metal floor, catching up against Murphy's lifeless form.

'Klutz, Ashe,' she thought, remembering the first day onboard when she had fallen off her heels, bumping into Jack. Pushing that to the back of her mind, she scrambled forward, taking advantage of the dark. She suddenly realized why she had been given this dress: it blended in with the shadows, disguising her. Suddenly having a lot more faith in her superiors, Ashe managed to grab a handful of Murphy's coat and drag him to the door at the foot of the stairs. She held her hand over Murphy's chest as she prepared her next move, trying to stifle her ragged breathing and not able to fully stifle her gasp. His chest wasn't moving! He wasn't breathing, and his heart wasn't beating! Murphy was.

Unwilling to give up yet, Ashe gritted her teeth and concentrated, thinking of the instructions that had been planted in her head. She gripped Murphy's cold arm, needing flesh-to-flesh contact. Tentatively, she pressed her other hand to the wall. It went right through it. It was a weird feeling, passing through solid metal. Like when your hand goes numb and you feel that fuzzy warmth when you touch something, but not much more. Not stopping to think, Ashe took a deep breath and rolled, passing her body right through the wall. Because he was attached to her, Murphy came with her.

When she was sure she had passed completely, Ashe let out her breath. And started hyperventilating

_-End Flashback-_

Trying not to think about Murphy and his apparent state, Ashe looked around. She appeared to be in some kind of hold. There was very little light, and exposed pipes and gears were everywhere. There was a staircase leading down to the floor. At the bottom of the stairs, Ashe could make out a pile of crates. And that was about it.

Jack wouldn't think to look down here, as this was the one place she shouldn't have been able to go. She didn't know how long it would take for him to find her, but she had to make use of what time she had.

She let go of Murphy's arm, and it dropped limply to the ground. Ashe looked at him, wondering what Jack had done to him. She was sure it had been Jack. The bastard. She felt Murphy's chest again, searching for even some faint sign that he still lived. She held her cheek above his mouth: no breath.

Ashe let out a sob. No. This wasn't happening. Murphy was.good. He hadn't tried to trick her; he had tried to help her. She suddenly felt horrible about assuming the worst about him. Maybe.maybe there was good in the world, she thought wryly. Maybe there were people who really cared about someone like her. Or at least about the rest of the people on this ship. Ashe knew too well what would happen to them if Jack wasn't stopped. And that was her job, wasn't it? But Murphy.

A tear streaked down Ashe's face. She was surprised how strongly she felt for this man she had just met, had barely begun to trust. But.he reminded her of everything she had imagined her father to be. And losing Murphy was like losing that dream, that fantasy that her father was still out there somewhere, and he was all she dreamed he would be.

But that was stupid. She had to start thinking of a plan, and something told her she would get no help this time. She had screwed up enough as it was. First she had failed to see the Salvager right in front of her, than she had put herself in the position where she had to reveal herself to him. After helping her out of that mess, she doubted her superiors were all that pleased with her right now.

She knew she was helping nobody down here in this hold. Once she was sure Jack had left the staircase, she had to get out of here. She knew she had no choice but to leave Murphy here, that there was nothing she could do for him. She sniffed, taking a deep breath. Jack had to have left by now...right?

Ashe stood up, dusting herself off. She examined the door, searching for the handle. She hoped it wasn't locked from this side, because she sure didn't have the energy to make another pass.

She sighed in relief when she found the handle. Just as she was about to pull the door open, a voice rang out behind her.

"And where do you think you're going, chica?"

Ashe jumped a foot in the air, spinning around and screaming. She slammed her back into the door when she landed, knocking the wind out of herself. He couldn't have.he wasn't in here.

Just then, she caught sight of a man coming up the stairs toward her. It wasn't Jack, she realized with a surge of relief. The man appeared to be Hispanic, in his mid-twenties. He wore rough clothing and a bandana around his head. But what caught Ashe's eye wasn't his clothing. It was his face. Half of it was covered in horrible scars, as if he had been burned badly. He was weaponless, but he was still menacing. His half-burned lips were curled into a leering sneer, and his dark eyes glittered with malice.

"Eh?" he said again, "Where d'you think you're going, babe?"

Ashe pushed away from the wall.

"I was just leaving," she said, trying to put some authority into her voice. Maybe if he thought she was supposed to be here.

"You're not supposed to be in here in the first place, babe," he said, "This hold's off limits to passengers. And the door's locked."

Just then, she man's eyes traveled past her to the heap behind her that was Murphy. His eyes flashed.

"What did you do to him?" he said, his leer disappearing.

Ashe forced herself calm. The guy seemed to care about Murphy from his reaction. Maybe that meant that he was on her side, as well.

"I didn't do anything to him," she said, taking a prudent step back as the man advanced on her, trying to get a better look at Murphy, "Jack killed him."

She choked on the word and immediately realized she should have put it more gently. But the man didn't seem shocked. In fact, he looked at her with a grin on his face.

"Yeah, babe, we knew that. That there's old news, see. Ferriman killed all of us."

Ashe blinked. Had she heard right? She couldn't have heard.Oh, shit. Oh SHIT! Of course! Why hadn't she thought of that before?! Jack was a salvager of SOULS! Why hadn't she thought of that? He wouldn't have come here without a few minions to help him out.

Then the full meaning of it sunk in. If this man was one of Jack's victims, then he was Marked. Which meant he wasn't on her side at all. And Murphy...Ashe suddenly felt very queasy. Was this all a trap?

She thought about the young man's words: "Ferriman killed all of us."

"Us?" she squeaked, backing away from the man until her back was pressed against the door.

The leer was back. "That's right, chica. All of us. C'mon out, boys!"

Then, suddenly, they were all there. Three more, making four in total. All youngish-looking, all dressed in rough clothing, suitable to tradesmen or sailors. Sailors.Murphy! That's how they knew him! They must have worked with him, probably for a while. And that meant they all knew each other. And that meant it was very doubtful they would let her escape between them.

Backed against the door, Ashe felt the familiar panic reaction sinking in. These were all males, and they were closing in on her. Memories tore at her, threatening to eat away at her sanity. She had to escape, she had to. She fumbled behind her for the handle, but found it unmovable.

"Don't bother," sneered the blonde man with a bullet wound in his side, "I locked it. You're not going anywhere until Ferriman's done with you."

Ashe paled. So this was it. There was no way she could get out of here, and these people were all on Jack's side.

One by one, each of the four men reached the landing where the door and Ashe were, each one glancing down at Murphy's limp body. She knew now that he wasn't dead after all.well, he had been dead the whole time, and was no more so now, she amended. That would explain why he had been so cold, so insubstantial looking. And that's why he had hated Jack.

Looking around at the pack of males descending on her now, they seemed more interested in getting a look at Murphy than in containing her. She supposed they knew she wasn't going anywhere anyway.

The guy with the long, tangled hair was the first to address her.

"Hey," he said, sticking out his hand, "I'm Munder. That's Greer" He pointed to the young dark-skinned man looming over Murphy, "That's Dodge," he gestured at the blonde man, "and that's Santos." He pointed at the bandana-ed one. "I'm guessing you're Ashe?"

"Uhhh...yeah," Ashe replied warily, extending her hand and shaking his. She saw no immediate harm in these cronies of Jack's and realized they had probably been given orders not to hurt her - yet. "Hi."

Munder smiled and gestured at Murphy. "This here was the finest salvaging captain to sail the Strait. He fought with everything in him against the Mark, but I think it's finally got him."

Ashe's eyes bugged open. "What? He fought it?"

Munder eyed her beadily. "Yeah, he fought it. He was a better person than us, I guess. Said he wanted to take advantage of his second chance. Said he wanted to save you."

By now, all eyes were on her. Something about the way they were looking at her wasn't good.they were all thinking the same thing, and were trying to figure out who would be the one to say it.

It was the one named Greer who finally cleared his throat and said tentatively, "Did he tell you that he's..." Greer paused for a moment, then shook his head.

"Nope," he said, talking more to himself and to his companions than to Ashe, "She doesn't know guys."

"Shit," Dodge stated, almost cheerfully. What the hell was going on here?

"Know what?" Ashe said, trying to fight down the hysteria. How could this possibly get any worse than it already was? "What don't I know?"

Dodge grinned, malice pouring through his eyes, letting Ashe know the next few seconds were going to be very painful for her. She braced herself, but not nearly enough for what was about to be said.

Dodge sneered and pointed to the lifeless heap on the floor with evil glee.

"Ashe, Murphy's your father."


	14. Truth

Disclaimer: Yup, I still don't own any of the stuff from Ghost Ship. I do, however, own Ashe, the Arctic Pearl, and an overactive imagination. That is all.

A/N: Wow. It's been a while, eh? Thanks Dana and Jeff for your emails, you guys have no idea how much your support means to me. If it weren't for you guys this story would have died out ages ago.

I really do try to update as quickly as possible, but life has been a bit hectic for me lately, and writer's block has been clogging my creative arteries. But hey, I think I'm okay now, so here it goes:

Chapter 14

Ashe reeled back, banging her back hard on the rail. She couldn't possibly have heard right. Dodge couldn't have just voiced the conclusion that her mind had been drawing her towards ever since she had first seen Murphy. No way.

Her head swam, her eyes sliding in and out of focus.

'I am _not_ going to black out,' she thought firmly, 'I'm not going to faint. That would be weak, and I can't afford to be weak right now.'

"Excuse me?" she choked out, her voice condensed to a choked rasp.

"You heard me," Dodge sneered, "The old man's your father. He knew it ever since he first saw you here. It's been torturing him, seeing you all sad and lonely and fucked-up. He said he wanted to protect you, to save you from dying like the rest of the pathetic people on this ship will die pretty soon. So we let him go, and next thing we see you're leaning over his unconscious body."

Gee, those were awfully pretty colours flying through the air. Really pretty. Vibrant, almost.

"No," she denied out loud, "You're lying."

Dodge shook his head. Meanwhile, the other men were closing in on her. Not much time left.

'Oh God,' Ashe thought frantically, 'Why me?'

* * *

Snarling, Jack spun in a slow circle, looking for where the bitch might have gone. How had things gone so wrong so fast? With a wave of his hand, the knife disappeared. 

He couldn't sense her anywhere. But she couldn't have just disappeared!

Just then, his eyes fell on the heavy metal door at the bottom of the stairwell. No. It was impossible. The door was locked.

Narrowing his cold blue eyes, Jack stalked down the stairs and tugged at the door. It didn't budge. Taking a deep breath, he cast his senses out, behind the door. Sure enough, there was the familiar mental storm, keeping him out and yet alerting him of her whereabouts. He also noticed the minds of his crew circling her, pinning her in. They each noticed and acknowledged his presence. Excellent.

Reaching into his pocket, Jack drew the key for the hold out of his pocket and inserted it into the door. It unlocked with a satisfying click and he pushed it open, coming face to face with Ashe's deer-in-the-headlights look.

Her gray-green eyes were dilated black, and wide with fear and shock. Locks of hair stuck out of their knot to crown her pale face like a halo. Her black dress was ripped in places and her mascara was running in dark streaks like tearstains down her face.

Time froze for a moment while Jack admired just how beautiful Ashe really was before the world exploded into a frenzy of motion and noise.

Ashe gasped and bolted down the stairs into the hold, her skirt flying up after her. Caught unawares, Jack's crew was too slow to catch her right away.

Greer was the first to react. He dove after Ashe, catching her skirt and yanking hard, causing her to lose her balance and crash headfirst down the remaining steps, landing in a heap of black at the bottom. The silky material of her dress ripped and Greer was left holding a large swath of it. At the same time Dodge, Santos and Munder were attempting to step over Greer to give chase. Jack closed the door with a bang and stepped forward before his eyes adjusted to the sudden dark. He found his foot sinking into something soft and giving, and pitched forward, landing sprawled on top of Murphy's still form. Growling, he detached himself and stood, brushing off his suit.

By that time, Ashe had regained her feet and was fleeing across the hold, the three men in pursuit. Greer had also regained a standing position and backed out of the way as Jack brushed past him to descend the stairs. Each step was punctuated with the sharp clang of the metal steps.

"You can run but you can't hide, bitch," he whispered menacingly at the bottom, searching the dark hold for her.

For a moment it seemed his sentiments had proven false, because Dodge, Munder and Santos had all stopped in their tracks, looking frantically around for their quarry, whom it appeared had vanished. Then Jack caught a tiny flicker of movement out the corner of his eye. Turning his head slowly and straining his eyes, he could make out a dark shape huddling half-hidden behind a large vertical pipe.

Jack couldn't help but smirk at her tactics. She had let her hair down, camouflaging her neck and chest against the darkness. Between that and her dress, only her face stood out against the gloom.

Waving his hand, Jack signaled to his crew that he had found her and to leave her to him. They nodded and relaxed, their eyes still scanning the room to locate her.

Ducking behind some empty crates, Jack moved toward her location, darting between shadows until he was on the opposite side of the pipe she hid behind. He could hear her harsh, stifled breathing and smiled. This was always so much fun. Like a game of hide and seek, but with the added pleasure of adrenaline and the anticipation of the kill.

Moving carefully and stealthily, he crept around the pipe, the knife back in his hands. Just a bit closer…

Gripping the knife harder, Jack took a deep breath and leapt around the side of the pipe. It took him a moment to register the fact that there was nobody there. He blinked once, stunned, then ran around to the front of the pipe in time to spot Ashe tearing back up the stairs toward the door. The now-unlocked door.

"Shit!" Jack screamed, then turned to his crew.

"What the fuck are you idiots doing? Get her!" he cried, already racing as fast as he could toward the stairs.

But he knew it was too late. With his eyes fully adjusted to the dark, he saw that she had already reached the landing and had stopped dead, staring at Murphy's body on the floor. She sighed visibly, bit her lip, then stepped over him and wrenched open the door.

By that time Jack had reached the base of the steps, his crew clattering up behind him. The sudden burst of light from the doorway blinded him, causing him to throw his arm up to shield his eyes. When he brought his hand down, the door had closed and Ashe was gone.

"You gonna go after her?" Santos asked from a respectable distance, prudently wary of Jack's wrath.

Jack smiled. Ashe's pause had given him an idea.

"You told her about Murphy?" he asked.

A pause.

"Yeah," said Dodge.

"Good."

With that, Jack mounted the stairs three at a time to reach Murphy. The old man still hadn't regained consciousness. The last few days had weakened him to the point where Jack's last attack had put him out pretty good.

But that wasn't important right now. Crouching, Jack placed a hand on Murphy's shoulder, absorbing a bit of the old man into himself. At the same time, he began to change, taking on Murphy's form as his powers allowed, the same way he had done so with Dodge mere days ago.

Now fully changed, Jack grinned maliciously and straightened. Not only was he going to be able to kill the stupid bitch, but he was going to do it looking like Murphy. Her father. No revenge could be sweeter.

Turning, he waved a quick salute to his stunned crew and let himself out of the hold, locking it behind him.

He started down the halls at a leisurely pace, taking his time. He knew exactly where she'd be.

* * *

Ashe groaned as she pushed open the heavy exterior door that, just yesterday, Jack had hit her with. 

She had avoided people all the way up to the fourth floor, skirted the still-noisy ballroom, and had made her way to the door. She stepped outside and took huge gulps of the fresh sea air, shaking from head to toe.

She knew she looked like shit. Her hair, let down out of its knot, was still wet from her shower and stuck to her neck and shoulders with panic sweat. Her face was sticky with running makeup and her dress was ripped with a large hole in the skirt where Greer had grabbed her. Her ribs were bruised and her knees were both scraped raw from her fall down the stairs, and she was lucky that was all that had been damaged. Her head pounded with stress, tension and adrenaline overdose, and she was shaking so bad she could barely stand upright. She looked – and felt – like death warmed over.

She giggled at the thought, a bit hysterical, but stopped when her ribcage twinged with pain. Rubbing her chest, she thanked the powers that be that there were no people taking a nighttime stroll on this area of the deck.

She made her way to the prow of the ship, not sure if Jack was following her, not sure she even cared at this point. Maybe he was content to torture Murphy, instead.

Murphy. Her heart plummeted into her stomach. She had had no choice but to leave him down there. Her first priority had been getting herself out of there intact, and then she could go back for him. But the question was, would there be anything left of him to go back for, or would the Mark finally consume him like it had the others?

Remembering the evil gleam in Dodge's eyes, she shuddered. She never wanted to see Murphy's eyes look like that.

Was he really her father? Murphy was everything Ashe had ever imagined her father to be – strong, resilient, handsome, perceptive. He had a knowing smile and a twinkle in his eyes when he was amused. He loved the sea more than he loved his family, and he was happy working with it, as Ashe knew she would be if given the chance. Yet, after all this time, he still cared enough to recognize her, to do everything he could and risk his very soul to help her, to save her. She had known him for almost two days, and yet it seemed she had known him forever. But…he was dead.

Ashe suddenly found that she couldn't stand anymore. Leaning back against the cool railing, she sank to her knees and turned to face the water. The ship plowed ahead, unaware of the evil cancer festering in its holds.

Soothed by the familiar sound of the water and the unyielding horizon of sea and starry night sky before her, her breathing returned to normal and she stopped shaking. She pressed her head against one of the crossbars of the railing, letting the cool metal ease the ache in her head.

Unfortunately, it also galvanized the tears she had been holding in ever since Dodge's revelation. They welled up in her eyes until gravity pulled them down in streaks over her face. She sniffed and hiccupped a sob, unwilling to let her misery take over quite yet. All hope wasn't lost for Murphy. Maybe Jack would leave him alone. Maybe, if she regained her strength, she could still save him, save the ship.

But time was running out. She had no idea how close Jack was to executing whatever plan he may have for the mass murder the ship was targeted for. And she had no plan of her own to combat his. She had been so blind, falling for his charms like a weak child, lulled by her fantasies that maybe someone out there might actually want to make her happy, that maybe she wasn't invisible. What a fool she had been.

She sobbed again. Now she was feeling sorry for herself. Would there ever be a day when this would all be over, when she wouldn't have to deal with people anymore? When she wouldn't have to deal with herself anymore? Would there ever come a day when she could just be free to sail into that dark, star-bright horizon and let it swallow her up?

Caught up in reflection and the aftereffects of terror, she didn't hear the footsteps behind her until it was too late.

Still on the ground, she spun around to face the person behind her.

Murphy blinked down at her for a moment before collapsing by her side.

Ashe's heart stopped for a moment before going double-time. She leaned over him, checking for a pulse. Then her senses returned and she remembered he didn't have a pulse. She continued to lean over him, checking for signs of life.

"Murphy?" she asked carefully.

His eyes fluttered open briefly and he smiled at her.

Relief swept over her as he attempted to raise himself on his elbows.

"No," she said, "Lie there for a sec. You're not strong enough to get up."

He seemed content with that, and relaxed a bit.

"You know," he rasped, "I really thought I could pull this off."

Guilt nagged behind her heart.

"It's not your fault," she whispered, choking back tears again, "You tried so hard. For all these people. For me." A sob ripped though her. "Thank you."

It hit her then. What if he wasn't himself anymore? The last she had seen him, he had been unconscious while the Mark worked away at his soul. Now…

He grasped her arm gently.

"I'm sorry, Ashe," he said in a pained voice.

Tears dripped down her cheeks and fell onto his shirt.

"Keep fighting it," she whispered, "Please, keep fighting. You can do it. For all of us. For your crew. They still care about you, you know. They'd want you to keep fighting."

But he shook his head.

"I can't."

Ashe shook with sobs, trying to get a hold of herself. This couldn't be happening. She had wanted her whole life to meet this man, and now she had, but it was too late.

"Murphy…"

"What?"

"Are you really…?"

"Yeah."

She bit her lip hard enough to break the skin, tears streaking down her face and obliterating what was left of her eye makeup. Her entire body was wracked with sobs and she doubted she could move for a very long time.

"I'm sorry, Ashe," he rasped, shifting a bit.

"Don't be sorry," she choked out. She wouldn't have him harboring guilt about this, not after so long, "What are you sorry for?"

"For this."

He suddenly squirmed under her, and Ashe saw a flash of metal in the glow of the interior lights before she felt the knife slide in between her ribs.

She reeled back, away from Murphy to fall against the railing.

Through a haze of pain, she saw Murphy's façade change. At first she thought she was only hallucinating, but she realized the truth as soon as her father's dark eyes morphed into icy cold, glacier blue.

"No," she gasped, her hand automatically searching out the hilt of the long-bladed knife in her chest.

As the transformation completed itself, Jack smirked.

How could she ever have thought Jack was anything other than pure evil? That cold, demented look showed that he reveled in her pain, took pleasure in it.

"You sick, pathetic bastard," she said, choking as her lungs filled with blood, "You'll rot in hell."

"Ashe," he replied softly, mockingly, "I thought you knew who I was. I've already been there, remember?"

Jack leaned in towards her, pinning her against the railing. His cold blue eyes once again bored into hers, searching her soul.

After a few seconds, he snarled. It wasn't a human sound.

"How do you do it?"

She could no longer speak, but her confusion must have showed.

"Why can't I see you? Your mind, how do you block me out?" he hissed, obviously livid. His eyes blazed, his face was screwed up with anger and his hands were balled into fists. It made him look insane. Ashe inched back from him, losing strength fast.

Growling, Jack reached forward and caught her arms, shaking her until she coughed up blood, spraying it on his shirt.

Looking down, his face softened, and the evil sneer returned.

"I guess it doesn't matter now, does it? Soon you'll be mine and I'll get all the answers I want."

Ashe was starting to black out. She could no longer hear him, and soon all she could see were his dazzling blue eyes before her vision faded to black and she drowned in the sea of sorrow of failure that tugged mercilessly at her soul.

* * *

Jack watched as the life slowly seeped out of Ashe, her blood flowing around the knife to soak his sleeve. When he was sure she was gone, he released her arms and grasped for her right hand with his own. 

Clenching her wrist tight, he brought his hand down to envelop her palm, preparing to Mark her soul as he had done to countless others.

Prepared for the usual surge of life force that he always acquired from his victims, he was caught off guard by what he did receive.

Instead of the usual scream of outrage and terror that usually accompanied the Marking, all he could hear was mocking, feminine laughter. It filled his ears until he couldn't hear anything else, taunting him, ridiculing him.

"Stupid _bitch_!" he screamed, not caring who heard him on this godforsaken ship, "What the fuck are you?"

He let go of her hand and gazed down at her smooth, unmarked palm. He could feel the fear and uncertainty clawing away at him as he backed quickly away from her body, stopping only to wrench his knife out of her chest, accompanied by a fresh flow of still-warm blood.

Usually, the sight of blood excited him. Now it just made him sick. He had been so sure that if he killed Ashe, he wouldn't have to worry anymore. That he could Mark her and she would be under his control, everything would be under control. But now he knew that was impossible.

Who was she, really? Or maybe the better question was _what_ was she, that she couldn't be Marked like any other soul? She certainly wasn't entirely innocent. Pure souls were like a beacon to Soul Collectors, warning them away. He didn't feel that with Ashe, but there was something…

Now that he thought about it, there was something…wrong with her. Even now, while he stared at her lifeless body, she reeked of cleanliness, of purity. And it didn't stop there. It continued to seep out from her like the rapidly spreading pool of blood, an aura that very frankly frightened him.

He knew he should dispose of the body before someone saw it, but the thought of going near her, touching her, scared him shitless. Maybe he was losing it, he thought as he backed away. Her mocking laughter still echoed in his ears, slowly driving him insane.

Without another glance, Jack turned and ran from the one spirit he couldn't Mark.

* * *

The sea, cold and dark as ebony, reflected the star-filled sky overhead. Away from the lights and sounds of the ship's interior, the still night pressed down from all sides. The sounds and smells of the sea wafted up over the rails of the Arctic Pearl to assault the senses of those few people walking out on deck. 

At the prow of the ship, a slight wind picked up. It drifted out, over the ship and toward the stern, seeking to rustle clothing and tangle hair. When it reached the back of the ship, it changed directions to drift back toward the prow, where it stirred the bundle of black, silky material huddled in a pool of red under the unforgiving gaze of the heavens.

A pair of gray-green eyes stared lifelessly out to sea, gazing into the far distant eastern horizon, where the sea met the sky in a straight, unyielding line.

As the first hint of dawn coloured the line a deep crimson, the eyes suddenly blinked shut. When they reopened, they were ablaze with determination and a newfound strength as the heartsick, damaged girl inside them was replaced with a vengeful young woman.

Her lips, long cold and pale from death, opened and took a deep breath of pure sea air.

"I'll be back soon," she whispered to the bloody horizon.


	15. Judgment

Disclaimer: I _still_ don't own anything you recognize from Ghost Ship. But not for lack of trying; those Dark Castle people are very protective of their characters and situations…damn.

A/N: Wow, it's been so long! This chapter has taken so long to write to my satisfaction, and I think I finally have it. I've also planned out my last few chapters, so they should be coming shortly. Sorry again for the delay, but I've worked very hard on the end of this story and I want it to be perfect. Thankies!

Chapter 15

Jack closed the heavy exterior door behind himself, breathing hard and trying to calm his heart, which had technically stopped beating long ago.

He knew in the logical part of his mind that he shouldn't leave the body there, where anyone could see it. Things would get very messy if it was found, and he could kiss his career goodbye. And that was _not_ a good thing.

But that was the logical part of his mind. The other part, the part which had slowly been going crazy over the past few days, screamed at him that there was no way in the vast expanses of Hell that he was going anywhere near that - that something out there.

Jack took a deep breath and told himself that when he got back to the hold, he would instruct one of his crew members to remove the body. After all, that's what they were there for, right?

With a purpose in mind, Jack set off for the lower decks of the ship. He was shivering, and hated himself for showing that much weakness. Everything had been going so well for him, until that bitch Epps had showed up and destroyed the Antonia Graza. Things had been on a downhill slide from there.

Why hadn't he been able to Mark Ashe? And what, _what_, was that strange feeling he got from her? And how had she been able to block him out in the first place?

Jack shook his head. He was afraid he would never find the answers to those questions, but it didn't matter now. She was dead, he was sure of that much. And that was what counted.

By the time he reached the stairs leading to the hold, Jack had managed to push the fear and panic to the back of his mind, clearing it for new thoughts of victory and reassurance. Everything was back on track. Ashe was dead, his plans were in the final stages, and he had sensed an amazing amount of sin on this ship in the short walk down. Nothing could stop him now.

He reached the door and drew his key out of his pocket, but before he could insert it into the lock he noticed the door wasn't latched. He must have forgotten it in his haste to go after Ashe, and his crew hadn't closed it after him.

Frustration boiled up to replace the giddy assurance. Idiots! What were they doing down there, sleeping? Anyone could have just traipsed in and discovered them or worse, discovered the gold!

Ever since they had arrived on the Arctic Pearl, they had done nothing useful, and he had let them slack off. Jack gritted his teeth. That was about to change. Things were about to happen, and he couldn't afford to have idiots on the job.

"Hey!" he shouted a he swung through the door, slamming it with an echoing bang behind him, "What the fuck are you numbskulls doing down here? You left the door open -"

He trailed off as four pairs of anxious eyes trained upon his. Munder, Greer, Dodge and Santos were huddled around the form of their old captain, whom they had dragged down to the floor of the hold. Murphy was still out like a light, and Jack took a moment to wonder if he would actually wake up this time. It would be nice if the old man just stayed unconscious for a few days, but Jack could use the extra hands for his plans.

Heaving a heavy, steadying sigh, Jack clomped determinedly down the remaining steps to join his crew. None of them said anything until Jack had stopped a few feet from them.

"D'you think he'll be okay?" Munder asked nobody in particular, one hand scratching the back of his matted, greasy head in obvious discomfort.

Jack smirked and answered anyway, "You survived, didn't you?"

They all took some time to think about that. They had all indeed 'survived' the Mark and its effects, but none of them had been struck down as Murphy was.

"Enough gawking," Jack continued irritably, sensing one of them getting up the nerve to retort his comment. He didn't need that right now. "Surprising though it may seem, you guys are here and not in Hell for a reason, and that's to help me. So why don't you go do something useful for a change?"

"Fine," Greer retorted, just as irritably, "Like what?"

"Like disposing of Ashe's body," Jack smirked, waiting for the inevitable reaction.

Greer sucked in his breath at the abrupt statement. Santos curled his lip in distaste. Munder put his head down and muttered a few colourful sailor words. Dodge just stared blankly for a few seconds before biting his lip.

"What," Jack said, enjoying their shocked reactions, "You didn't think I would catch her? That shape-shifting trick works every time!"

"Didn't work last time," Dodge muttered.

Jack hissed and prepared to make a smart comeback, then realized there was none. Dodge was right; the trick hadn't worked on Epps.

Instead, Jack pointed to Dodge and Munder.

"You guys. You'll find her at the prow of the ship. Just dump her over or something. I don't care, just make sure you clean up the blood and everything. I want it squeaky clean."

There were some heavy sighs, but Jack figured they were raring to get out of the dark, dingy hold and into real air. As they moved toward the stairs, Jack called after them.

"Make sure you stay invisible. And make it quick, so nobody sees anything. It's almost light out already."

And then they were gone, through the door and out into the hallway. Jack eyed his two remaining crewmembers, and then Murphy's prone form.

He toed the lump of flesh and clothing that used to be a proud captain and grinned.

"Not so goddamned tough now, are you old man?" he said disdainfully.

Santos cleared his throat.

"And what are we supposed to do?" the young Hispanic man asked, indicating himself and Greer.

"You guys are gonna help me with the final stages of my plans," Jack replied, "I've got almost everything worked out, but since you guys are probably going to play a big role in this I thought I should review it with you first, and you can fill the others in. Got that?"

He hated the idea of giving up that much control to this bunch of salvagers, Greer was an expert on boats. And Santos was an expert on computers and technology, which seemed to be a huge part of how this ship was run. Santos' technological prowess had already proved useful: he had snuck into the bridge earlier, invisible, and had printed off the blueprints Jack needed to make his plans without any of the on-duty crew noticing.

Another reason to include his crew was the simple matter of time. The Antonia Graza had been a large ocean liner on a month-long voyage across the Atlantic, whereas the Arctic Pearl was a simple six-day Arctic cruise. Last time, Jack had had the time to gather an organized following to help him execute his master plan. No time for that this time; the third day of the cruise was beginning and Jack needed to have everyone dead by the end of the fifth day, before they got too close to land.

Not wasting any time now, Jack pulled himself up a crate. He was really looking forward to the time after he had slaughtered everyone here, when he could exert his control over the ship and all of its components. Then he could control every screw and plank of the ship with a single thought.

He waited while his two fellow conspirators sat on crates of their own, then he took out the stolen map. He laid the blueprints across yet another crate and looked over at Santos and Greer, who seemed anxious to hear what he had planned.

Back in his element, all thought of Ashe and Murphy fled his mind as he outlined his plans.

* * *

She watched the sun come up. She lounged over the railing at the back port side of the ship, which was turned toward the east. The fiery orb of the sun rose slowly over an orange horizon, the crimson stain of its light bleeding outwards until it enveloped the cruise ship caught in the frothy early morning waves. The wind that had picked up the previous night whipped her hair around her head and blew her thoughts away into the chill morning air. 

From deep inside her chest, a yawn rose and came exploding from her lips. She raised a hand to cover her mouth as she reflected on the strenuous night she had had.

Ashe looked down at her torn, ruined gown and cringed. Her superiors had given her this dress with strict orders to return it safely. Hopefully the circumstances under which it was utterly destroyed would sway their thinking somewhat.

She stared bleakly down at the tear across her midriff, where a fresh red scar stood out starkly against her pale skin.

"I guess it'll match the other one," she sighed quietly, "Who knows? Depending on how many assignments I end up having to take, I might have a whole collection by the time I'm done."

Ashe pushed those thoughts firmly away. She didn't want to think about what would happen when she was finished this assignment. Would she finally be free, or would she be forced into another job like this one, dealing with people and 'facing her demons'? The thought threatened to bring tears to her eyes.

By now, the sun had freed itself from the protective clutches of the horizon and was rising into the fading sky. Ashe couldn't imagine being brave enough to part from that safe, predictable horizon every day. Ashe had always considered herself a sunset: Fading away, weary from a hard day. Wanting nothing more than to hide away and sleep where no light could find her.

Ashe shook her head to clear it of those ridiculous metaphors. She didn't have the time to waste on poetry right now.

As she swung away from the railing, Ashe was surprised to find that she was crying again. She wiped the tears furiously away, frustrated with herself for letting her emotions get away from her. She was usually so controlled, so collected. But the last few days – no, the last few years – had rubbed her raw emotionally.

Dying was not fun, she reflected. Dying was scary. Every human, no matter how depressed or world-weary, had the basic instinct of survival. Nobody really wanted to die.

And yet Ashe had always viewed death, whenever it came, as a release. Death should be final, restful, a reward for living life and finally facing death. But for her it wasn't release, wasn't a reward. It was simply a setback, a tool of fear used against her by those who would force her to do things she didn't want to do, wasn't capable of doing.

Scrubbing the last of the tears away, Ashe shook her head and, casting one last longing look at the now-blue horizon, returned inside to do what she had come here to do.

Ashe stared at the reflection in the bathroom mirror and didn't recognize what stared back at her. The person in the mirror was deathly pale, all hints of her early-summer tan bleached by terror, stress and the trauma of death. Her lips were swollen and smudged-looking. Her eyes were lost and haunted, sunken into her head and rimmed by the remnants of last night's makeup and livid purple bruises from exhaustion. Even the colour of her eyes had changed from light blue-gray to the colour of ancient slate.

Her hair was a tangled mass, half of it stuck to her face with sweat, blood and tears, and the other half standing straight on end. Her long black gown was crusted with dried blood. Half of the skirt had been torn off from her fall down the stairs, and there was a large gash across the midriff where she had been stabbed. Not to mention that she was bent-backed from fatigue and from her aching bones and muscles. She had small cuts and scrapes everywhere she looked. Bruises swathed most of her body, including a livid one rising on her right cheek. Her shoes had been lost, unnoticed, some time during the night, and she was barefoot. Her previously long, even fingernails were broken and bruised, and it hurt to move, to breathe, to think.

Unable to look at herself anymore, Ashe somehow stumbled into the bathroom and stood under the shower for what must have been three hours, until she could move freely again and she felt decently clean. She wondered grimly if she would ever feel completely clean again.

Finding it hard to breathe in the steam-filled bathroom, Ashe wrapped a towel around herself, cringing as the soft terrycloth brushed all of her bruises, and went to sit on her bed in the next room.

All of a sudden, she started shivering and couldn't stop. Her teeth chattered so loudly she feared they would break, and every muscle in her body, already pushed to the limit, screamed with tension.

Shaking uncontrollably and whimpering like a lost puppy, she managed to wrench back the covers and crawl under them.

Screw her job. Screw all those scary, doomed people. If she was going to be of any use at all, she needed sleep.

* * *

_It was a blustery October night. Leaves blew in whorls around the cars rushing around Vancouver Harbour, their owners hurrying home to escape the chill weather._

_There were few pedestrians so late at night in the dangerous part of the city, but one young woman hurried along the debris-covered sidewalks to her car. She had been working late, working on a report that was due the next day._

_Ashe was dead tired, and her eyes were bleary from looking down the microscope at her specimens all day. The chill wind blew her long coat around her; she held it tighter against her. She was never worried about walking down by the harbour this late: after all, she was invisible. What trouble could she possibly encounter?_

_Ashe loved autumn; the chilly bite in the air, the beautiful colours of the trees, the anticipation of the peace of winter on the west coast…she allowed her mind to wander and slowed her tread somewhat as she took a deep breath of the air. The ocean was only a few blocks away, and the wind was scented with it. Then she remembered why nobody should ever let their guard down while walking in downtown Vancouver._

_She had been passing a dark alley without even realizing it, and suddenly an arm snaked out of it to grab at her. Seeing it too late, she was too slow to dart away. The arm, obviously belonging to a large man, dragged her into the alley. She tried to scream for help, but his hand quickly came up to cover her mouth. She squirmed, trying to break his grip, and suddenly her face exploded with blinding pain as his accomplice slapped her hard._

_Her eyes, only just now adjusting to the dark, welled with tears of pain and panic as she realized there were a bout five big men surrounding her. At least two of them held knives, and they were all leering at her in a way she really didn't like._

_How could this be happening? Why had they chosen her? She wasn't anybody, she was invisible, nobody could possibly want anything from her!_

_One of the men ripped off her coat and began searching through it, and upon finding nothing proceeded to check the pockets of her jeans while the first man held her arms behind her back. It was a good thing she always kept her valuables hidden and locked in her car while she was at work, because they found nothing on her of any value._

_Every time she tried to struggle or scream she was rewarded with another blow to the head, until she could no longer feel the left half of her face._

_When they found nothing in her pockets, Ashe thought they might let her go. Panic and fear seared her nerves, and adrenaline pumped through her so heavily she thought she might pass out every time her heart beat. Her breathing was restricted by her assailant's hand, and it came in shallow gasps._

_But they didn't release her. Instead, the biggest of them, who had been standing by while the others searched her, came forward. His bulk blocked out most of the light from the street, so that Ashe felt she was completely cut off from all hope of rescue._

_The man came toward her, a leer fixed upon his craggy features. Even before he reached to her shirt and began to rip it open, Ashe knew what was about to happen._

No!_ That would _not_ happen again! Not again, never again!_

_She began to fight harder, determined not to let this man do what he intended to do. Was this the only way it ever was with men? she thought as panic rose in her. Her heart jumped into her throat, obscuring her air tube. Unable to breathe, Ashe struggled until the big man grabbed the knife from one of his cronies, holding it up to her throat._

_"Stop squirming, bitch, or I'll cut you so bad you' - Ahh!"_

_Ashe had stomped as hard as she could on the man's foot and was about to raise her knee to his groin when he caught it in one of his massive hands. She gave a huge heave, and the man that held her finally lost his grip on her. Ashe found she could suddenly breathe again, though not as well as usual. She took as big a lungful of air as she could manage and screamed with all of her might, which admittedly wasn't much. It came out as a low yell that somehow fell hollow in the alleyway. A few of the men laughed, but she didn't notice that. All her energy was focused on getting out of this alley and away from that man that was determined to rape her. But by now he had her leg in a painful death grip, and had his knife pressed against her once again._

_"I don't think you want to do that, bitch," he growled, nevertheless panting with the effort to keep her restrained, "Or I might decide you're not worth it."_

_Ashe didn't even give herself time to think about that comment. She had to get away, had to be alone again. Those were the only thoughts that penetrated her head as her breathe came out in gasps and tears ran down her face. Her shirt was torn almost to her waist, and her lip was bleeding from one of the brutes' blows._

_"Fuck it, man," one of the other men said from behind her attacker, "The bitch's too stupid to understand. Just shut her up before someone hears."_

_The largest man, who still held Ashe's leg and was now sweating with the effort of holding her, grunted and nodded. He let go of Ashe's leg but before she could move he slammed her into the brick wall of the alley. Stars danced in front of her eyes, and she never saw the knife the man held before he shoved into her abdomen._

_Pain flashed red in front of her eyes, and she slumped to the ground. The man pulled the knife out of her and took off with the rest of his cronies, leaving her alone._

_Tears of pain and fear obscured Ashe's vision as she lay in the alley. She was beyond screaming for help, beyond hoping at all. Nobody would help her; she was nobody. She was just invisible, ice bitch Ashe Garner, and she was better off dead anyway._

_Fighting through the pain, she managed to momentarily blink the tears away and look down. Blood oozed from the wound below her ribs, and a pool of it had collected around her, soaking her ripped shirt and jeans._

_Being a biologist, Ashe had never been afraid of blood. Now, as she watched it leak out of her, taking her life with it, she watched almost with fascination. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, as she supposed her lungs were filling with blood and shutting down. She could no longer feel her heart beat, but she found she didn't care. The pain was fading now, and she became numb all over. She closed her eyes, feeling so cold -_

_- Cold like the ocean in June. Ashe was eleven years old at the time. She had waded in farther than she was supposed to, and her mother didn't notice. She was talking to a 'friend' from work, some man that Ashe didn't like. Suddenly, an errant wave swept Ashe off her feet, carrying her away from shore and out into the current. Ashe was never a strong swimmer, and she knew she should head back before the tide pulled her too far out. But it was so nice, so wonderfully soothing, to be surrounded completely by the freezing water, that solid support that wasn't solid at all. It hugged her gently in its embrace, drawing her slowly away from her problems, from the people she despised. Her skin became numb and then strangely warm as she halfheartedly treaded water. She wasn't so much swimming as floating, drifting out with the tide. She just let herself drift farther and farther away from shore, watching her mother and her friend grow smaller and smaller. But still she didn't scream for help, didn't panic. She was calm, serene even. She was in her element._

_Back on that beach years ago, that was the moment when her mother had noticed her and her friend had dove in to 'save' her, earning him a long praising and an even longer kiss from her mother, while Ashe had earned a screaming row that night, away from the eyes of her mother's latest boyfriend._

_But now, in the dark alley, Ashe allowed the tide to carry her away, beyond the horizon and beyond her problems. She submerged in the dark tide, and as she did a contented smile drifted across her face._

_Then, the darkness lifted. Slowly, a bit at a time, Ashe found that she could see shapes drifting around her. The air was filled with an eerie whispering, as if many voices were talking around her. She yelped when something caressed her arm, sitting bolt upright to another gush of blood from the knife wound. Strangely, it didn't hurt, not anymore. But the sight she awoke to drove all thoughts of the attack from her mind._

_She was lying stretched along a narrow path littered with stones and briars, and beyond the path she could see nothing but swirling dark mist. It had been an arm of that mist that had brushed her skin, and even now she shuddered as its chill swept over her again. Its touch was cold and clammy, like touching a dead fish, and the whispering she had heard was coming from somewhere within the gloom. The light that had awoken her was the dim half-light of dusk, filtering down through the mist to illuminate the path in front of her. Glancing behind her showed that mists had obstructed her way back. That left her nothing to do but stay here as the whispering mist slowly ate away at her sanity, or walk the path ahead of her._

_Getting to her feet was hard, not because she was in pain, as she should have been with the gaping wound in her abdomen, but because it was like pulling yourself out of the water from being submerged: you're heavier than you think at first._

_Ashe knew that she was dead; surprisingly enough, the thought was a comfort. That meant that whatever was ahead of her couldn't possibly be worse than some of the things she had faced in life. Like people. She took one shuddering step, again feeling as though she weighed three times her normal weight, but as she began to walk it became easier with every step. Soon she was almost running down the narrow path, tripping occasionally over stones and prickly plants._

_"Hello?" she called, her voice falling dead in the swirling mist. The whispering persisted, to all sides, above and even below her. Glancing behind her showed that the mist had drifted over the path, obscuring the way back. Somehow she knew that to step into the mist would strand her forever in its clammy embrace, and she shuddered again at the thought. So the only way she could go was forward, for what seemed like hours, following the rough, narrow path through the mist._

_Finally, the gate appeared, small at first but gaining in size as she approached until it stretched five meters to either side of her and rose high above her head. The gate was intricately worked wrought iron. The gold emblem she could barely make out at the top depicted two cherubs holding what looked to be a broken heart between them._

_Lowering her gaze to eye level again, Ashe studied the swirling designs for some sign of a - what? A doorbell? A knocker? Shaking her head, Ashe resisted the urge to sit down and sob. The mists had obscured all but a foot of the path behind her, and the gate stood before her, solid and huge. She had nowhere to go._

_Then, there was the unmistakable sound of an ancient door creaking. The iron gate began to swing inwards, away from her. From somewhere in the distance a light appeared, steadily growing brighter as the gate opened wider. Before Ashe had time to shield her eyes, the light became blinding, filling her vision._

_She dropped to her knees as the light washed over her, strangely cold and distant, like the sun in the winter, bringing with it shrieks and screams like somebody was being tortured._

_"I'm in Hell," Ashe thought as the screams tore at her, driving her slowly insane, "I've been sent to Hell."_

_But then, as suddenly as it had begun, the screaming stopped, replaced by the sound of somebody walking toward her. Releasing the breath she hadn't been aware of holding, Ashe raised her head to look at the newcomer. It was a pale woman, dressed in a gown of some silky material that Ashe had never seen before. She seemed to glide toward where Ashe knelt, still bleeding, on the ground. With a bit of a start, Ashe noticed that the ground was no longer rocky and rough but made of smooth black and red marble. It looked like blood leaking through a deep bruise._

_Feeling sick, Ashe kept her eyes from the floor and instead addressed the approaching woman in a shaky voice, "Excuse me, but can you tell me what the hell just happened?"_

_The woman, who had long black hair and dark eyes, smiled in an almost motherly fashion at Ashe. "Welcome," she said in a high, melodic voice, "To the Gates of Judgment."_

_"Judgment," Ashe repeated under her breath, "I didn't know that was a place."_

_"It isn't," the woman replied, obviously hearing Ashe's mumbled words, "It is a state of being. You have led a hard life, Ashe Garner, and now it is over."_

_The words, put so bluntly like that, brought tears to Ashe's eyes. Nobody really wants to die, and hearing somebody say that you're dead isn't something you want to hear._

_"You have been judged," the pale woman continued, "And found guilty of Restraint."_

_"Restraint?" Ashe choked, seemingly unable to do more that repeat what the woman was saying._

_"Yes, Restraint. You have lived, Ashe, but you have not lived. Your avoidance of other human beings and belief that you go unnoticed has led to your life ending far too soon. Therefore you have been granted a second chance to make a difference."_

_"What do you mean?" Ashe asked, her voice shaking and her mind racing. She had to make up for - what? For staying away from the people that would have made her life even more of a living hell than it was? No! She had lived and now she was dead. That meant she would be able to rest, to finally be on her own. This couldn't be happening!_

_"You mean I have to go back?" she squeaked, unnerved by the pale woman's unwavering stare._

_"Ashe," the woman said, gazing down with what could only be described as pity, "You don't understand how closing yourself off from others has affected who you could have been. Nobody ever gets to live life over, but some, like you, are given the chance to make up for what they have become."_

_Sobbing quietly, Ashe chewed at her lip, desperately trying to let the woman's words sink in._

_"What am I going to have to do?" she asked._

_"That is yet to be seen," the woman replied, now crossing to Ashe and taking her gently by the arm, "But for now you're to be taken to a place where you can prepare. You will stay there until you are called to do what you must."_

As Ashe allowed the pale woman to haul her to her feet, the dream dissolved, leaving Ashe shaking and sobbing two years later in her bed aboard the Arctic Pearl.


	16. Plans

Disclaimer: I own no rights to Ghost Ship or any of its characters etc. I'll be so glad when this story is finished and I don't have to do any more of these bloody disclaimers!

Author's Note: No, I have not given up. 'Ghost Ship II: Second Chances' has never left my mind over these long months, and I've been slowly picking away at this chapter through intense writer's block. I promise I'll update more often now that it's almost over, and this time I mean it. So now, without further ado, Chapter 16.

Chapter 16

Jack rose from his seat atop the crate and stretched. He was satisfied that his plan couldn't fail. Everything was good.

Then, of course, things started to go wrong. It was just his fucking luck lately.

The door to the hold banged open to admit Dodge and Munder.

"Hey boss," Munder yelled, "We've got a problem."

Jack raised a hand and rubbed his eyes with it.

"Let me guess," he grumbled, "Somebody saw the body and now there's a huge panic onboard?"

"No," Munder wheedled, and despite Jack's relief he wondered what could possibly be worse than that scenario.

"What then?" he demanded of the greasy-haired ghost now descending the stairs.

Munder looked reluctant to respond, so Dodge spoke up. The blonde man looked disturbed as well.

"There was nothing there, Jack," Dodge spat, saying Jack's name as if it was a curse, "Not a trace. So either somebody's already removed her or she's not as dead as you think. Either way, it seems to me like you've fucked up royally once again. Good going."

Enraged, Jack narrowed his eyes and shot a bolt of power through the Mark in Dodge's hand. The young man screamed and collapsed, his right hand held to his chest in pain.

"That's a bit mouthy coming from somebody who also tried to kill somebody but didn't quite manage it, eh Dodge?" Jack jeered, giving the blonde ghost a good kick in the ribs while the others watched with carefully blank expressions.

His former good mood forgotten, Jack broke away from the small knot of ghosts and started pacing. Dodge was right. This was not good. Maybe he should go back upstairs and check out what the word was. Hopefully there was a huge uproar over the discovery of a murdered corpse at the prow. If that were the case, he could simply go ahead with his plan before an investigation started. If not, that meant the bitch was still alive. And that worried him.

He remembered the mocking laughter that had seeped from her, the memory of it making his skin crawl. Whatever that bitch was, she wasn't human.

"I'm going up," he said to nobody in particular, and not waiting for an answer he took the stairs two at a time and swung the heavy door wide. It banged against the wall with a clang, and then he was out in the light of the stairs.

Munder cringed with everyone else as the door slammed shut behind Jack.

"He's gone," he said, helping Dodge to his feet. His best friend in life, Dodge had stuck with Munder through the best and worst of times. Now they were trapped together under Ferriman's control.

Dodge cradled his right arm where the Mark had stung him as Munder helped him over to a crate.

"What happened out there, you guys?" Greer asked. The former first-mate of the Arctic Warrior came to sit by Dodge, Santos trailing behind them. Murphy still lay unmoving on the cold metal floor a few feet away.

"Just like we said," Dodge croaked, his voice hoarse from the residual pain of the Mark, "There was no body. We searched the entire deck, but there was nothing. Not a drop of blood. Nothing."

Despite himself, Munder grinned. "The look on Ferriman's face…it was like Christmas had been cancelled."

Dodge chuckled, then winced as it jarred his arm. "God, I hope she made it."

"Yeah," Santos agreed with a nod, "I liked her. Spunky, si?"

Greer added his own nod. "She's Murph's alright."

The four of them peered over at Murphy, immediately sobering.

"Shit," Dodge said with a passion, "I hope he makes it, too."

"He's a fighter, man," Santos said quietly, "Always has been. He'll make it."

"What happens if he doesn't?" Greer asked after a brief pause, "What'll Ferriman do if he doesn't wake up? Or does he just fade away?"

Nobody answered. They all sat staring at their fallen captain, silently willing him to get up and lead them like he used to.

* * *

Ashe had never felt so drained. Emotionally, physically, mentally. She hadn't had any rest because of her dream, and every inch of her body hurt from the fight the previous night. 

She had risen after waking up from her dream and had realized she was hungry. She vaguely remembered that she hadn't eaten since breakfast the previous day.

Thinking back on all that had happened the day before, Ashe couldn't believe it had only been twenty-four hours.

She pondered over her options. Jack knew about her, and she knew about him. Knowing his record as a soul collector, she knew he would probably already have a plan. He was one of the best in the business, after all, she thought bitterly. And it was only a matter of time before he executed his plan and killed everybody onboard the Arctic Pearl. She knew that she couldn't stop him if it came to that, so she had to stop him before he could do it. But how?

He was probably out there right now, wandering around, recruiting people to his cause, fattening these innocent people up on sin before he butchered them. Ashe had never liked people in general, but she had nothing against these strangers that were all about to be brutally murdered.

And what would happen when her body wasn't discovered? Jack would know she was alive, and he would come looking for her. She couldn't stay in her room, much as the thought appealed to her, but she couldn't wander around the ship on her own, either. It would be too easy for him to find her. And then what would she do? No, she decided, a direct confrontation was not what she needed right now.

So what were her remaining options? The first was to return to the hold and see if Murphy was okay. But those other ghosts, Marked ghosts, were down there. It would be like walking into a trap.

Silently praying that Murphy was indeed still down there and still somehow fighting, she discarded that option. That left only one logical choice: if she couldn't wander around vulnerable, but still had to work on her own, she would have to do the thing she dreaded the most: hide in a crowd. The thought of it made her want to vomit but she had to admit that it was the only way to do her job safely.

"Shit," she said, with feeling. The empty room didn't respond.

She took another short shower, wincing at the feel of hot water on her still-fresh wounds, and dressed in clean jeans and a fitted lavender t-shirt. Nothing Jack had ever seen her in, so she wouldn't be immediately recognizable. Glancing at herself in the bathroom mirror, she grimaced. Not that she'd look recognizable anyway.

Adding a black cardigan to conceal the bruises and cuts on her arms, she put her hair back in a low bun, so that her hair colour wouldn't be clearly visible. She would have worn a hat as well if she had brought one. She then applied a heavy dose of concealer to hide the greenish circles under her eyes, then some mascara and finally some demure pink lipstick. Satisfied that she looked almost alive and very forgettable, she dug around in her bag for her sunglasses and completed her 'disguise' with the mirrored lenses. Not a brilliant fashion statement, but that was the farthest thing from her mind at the moment.

Mentally repeating the mantra 'I'll be fine, I'll be fine, I'll be fine,' Ashe grabbed her purse and slipped out of her cabin, pausing to make sure it was locked behind her. Not that it would stop Jack or one of his ghosts from getting in, but it made her feel better.

She passed by the Blue Oyster, which was almost deserted at this time of the morning, on her way upstairs. Thinking of the good time she and Jack had had there less than a day ago made her nauseous, so she sped up and soon she was on the third deck and heading for the Java Shack. As a coffee shop, it would hopefully be packed at this hour.

Sure enough, the small café was filled to bursting with other passengers. They were laughing, talking, sipping coffee. Ashe stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, a whimper coming to her throat. She really didn't like people. They were all talking and laughing, and to Ashe they were laughing at her. 'Look at that stupid girl with sunglasses on indoors,' they seemed to say, 'Who does she think she's kidding? And that ugly t-shirt! Ha!'

Ashe bit her lip so hard it bled, but she wouldn't let herself turn around. Not this time. What had the Gatekeeper said? 'Guilty of Restraint?' Ashe shook her head hard and set her jaw. Determination had never been her strong point, but damned if she couldn't learn. She had been a shadow for too long; it was time to face what the world dealt her. That was what her second chance was for, and she didn't believe in wasting second chances. Not anymore.

Taking a steadying breath, Ashe straightened her spine, lifted her chin and strode forward into the crowd of people. She hoped she looked confident, maybe even haughty. She hoped she looked as if she didn't care what others thought. She hoped - she hoped Jack wasn't anywhere nearby, she thought with a grim smile.

She listened to the buzz of conversation around her, not expecting to be noticed. She was never noticed. Why should that change? Feeling uncharacteristically safe with so many people surrounding her, Ashe risked removing her glasses for a moment.

With a trill of shock, Ashe remembered two days ago, sitting right over there at that corner table with Jack, thinking the exact same thing and wondering why, out of everyone, he had chosen to notice her.

Ashe got to the counter and ordered a large latte to go and a blueberry muffin. Moving to the side to wait for her order, she spotted the blonde waitress she had known in university, Melinda Harper. She was waiting tables again, and as she passed by she gave Ashe a very funny look. As if she was trying to talk herself out of something.

It was then that Ashe had a realization. Of course! Melinda must know, somehow, that Ashe had been dead for two years. That's why Melinda hadn't recognized her the first time Ashe had been in the Java Shack, and that was why she was being stared at now.

Ashe dared a glance in Melinda's direction, only to see the blonde girl raise a hand to swipe at her eye. Then she turned around and Ashe saw that she was crying. Alarmed, Ashe wondered what could be wrong with the girl. She hadn't been crying a moment ago. Had something splashed in her eye?

As Ashe watched, Melinda swiped her eye again, smearing her perfectly applied mascara. The girl turned and head for the swinging door that led to the café kitchens. Just before she disappeared, Melinda cast one last tearful, almost longing look in Ashe's direction. The two women's eyes met for a moment, and Melinda's mouth curled up at the corners in a sad little smile. Then, with new tears dripping down her face, she disappeared behind the swinging door.

"Miss? This your order?"

Ashe snapped out of her shocked trance to see her latte and muffin on the counter.

"Thanks," she said to the guy behind the counter, who smiled at her.

Grabbing her breakfast, Ashe made her way hurriedly from the Java Shack and only when she was halfway down the hall did she remember she was supposed to stay in the crowd. But she couldn't stay in the Java Shack. Not when she risked seeing Melinda again. Something about the way the blonde girl had looked t her made her really uncomfortable.

Making a split-second decision, Ashe headed for the fourth-floor lounge. With its noisy games and loud, talking people, it would be the last place Jack would expect to find her.

She high-tailed it up the stairs, not daring to look to the left or right in case she saw him. She kept her head down and when she finally made it to the lounge she sank gratefully into a squishy chair by the wall and turned it so that her back faced the rest of the room.

After taking a few deep breaths and a few sips of warm, sweetened coffee, she felt a bit better. Realizing she had better look like she was doing something, she dug around in her purse. She desperately wanted to read, but even if she'd brought a novel with her she couldn't risk letting her attention wander from her surroundings.

Finally uncovering a piece of lined paper from the depths of her purse, Ashe found a pencil and drew herself a rough sketch of the ship's layout, from what she'd seen of it. She munched on her muffin and sketched until she was happy with what she'd drawn. It wasn't perfect, but she thought she had the five passenger decks pretty well proportioned. Then, next to the drawings of each of the decks, she started to compile a list of the things on each deck that could be hazardous or dangerous. That would probably be where Jack started, so it was logical that she do the same in order to anticipate his next move.

This was the hardest part of her job: trying to know what Jack would do before he did it. But it was also, in a way, the easiest part. Ashe had always been an expert problem solver; that was required of a scientist. Identify the problem, brainstorm ideas, find the perfect solution and put it into action. It was what she did, and after such a long time away from the normal world this familiar process helped soothe her mind. That was, once she forgot about exactly why she was doing it.

By the time she was sucking the last bit of foam from her latte, Ashe had gone through all her ideas. But she knew that in order to have a better idea of what she was facing, she had to go and explore more thoroughly. That meant she had to leave the safety of her cozy chair and creep around deserted areas of the ship. She tried thinking of better options, but none came. To her analytical mind, miscalculation was unacceptable. Any slight mistake she worked with could give him enough of an upper hand to go right through any defense she put up. And that couldn't be allowed to happen.

With a gusty sigh, Ashe tucked the map and pencil into her purse, then stood slowly. She turned around, the chair between her and the room, and scanned the area for any sign of Jack, Murphy or any of those other ghosts. When none of them appeared, she let out the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding and stepped around the chair. She dumped her coffee cup in a trash can on her way out of the lounge and figured that the best place to start her investigation (and the least likely place to find Jack) was on the fifth floor.

She headed up the stairs to the fifth floor lounge, which was filled with natural light. Looking up, Ashe realized why: the ceiling was made of plexi-glass. For stargazing in cold weather, she presumed. She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed this death trap before, and hurriedly scribbled it down on her map.

Half an hour later, after having a good look around and harassing a few crewmen about the intricate workings of the engine, the electrical equipment, the steering mechanism and anything else that came to mind about the Arctic Pearl, Ashe decided that she was as prepared as she was going to get.

Which didn't reassure her much.

She had ended up on the first cabin deck, and wondered if she should risk going back to her room to get rid of the coffee that had decided to make its reappearance in her bladder. Just as she thought this, she spotted it: the staircase Murphy had taken her to last night. The stairs to the hold.

Ashe averted her eyes and hurried past, holding her breath until she was out of sight. She had seen all she needed to. She started out walking quickly, but by the time she reached the stairwell she was running. She bolted up the stairs and not until she was on the third deck did she pause to take another breath.

It hadn't been the smartest idea to bring attention to herself by running, but she couldn't help it. She was paranoid, and she was stressed out. She needed to go outside.

She had scanned the fifth floor deck, where sunbathers and sightseers had created a big enough crowd to hide in. But she had been tense, and hadn't taken the time to soak up the sight of the water. Couldn't, with all the people around.

And yet, she knew she couldn't go out on the fourth floor deck, where she had died the night before. That would be one of the most obvious spots for Jack to look for her, and he would probably put somebody there to watch it for him. He wasn't stupid, after all.

Ashe sighed. What was she going to do? She had no idea where to go from here. Her superiors had given her no hints as to how to go about stopping the soul collector, only that she had to stop him. Some help they were.

Hearing a small warning in the back of her mind, Ashe rolled her eyes. 'Okay, okay,' she thought, 'you guys saved my ass last night. But not really. He still got me.'

The heavenly equivalent to a 'beggers can't be choosers' met this, and then nothing.

Ashe stuck her tongue out at whoever might be watching, gaining a few quick glances from a passing group of Japanese tourists.

Well that was just great. If she had been expecting some divine enlightenment, she certainly wasn't going to get it now. She was on her own. And she still didn't know what to do with herself. She was running scared. Eventually she'd have to confront Jack in some way or another, 'cause she couldn't keep hiding like this. It was too tiring, and she was constantly on edge. Not, she amended, that she wasn't constantly on edge anyway.

For the billionth time, Ashe wondered why she of all people had been sent to do this. She had to be the worst person in the universe for this job.

After a second's deliberation, she let out a small growl of frustration. Fuck it. She was going outside, and he could come for her for all she cared. What could he do to her in full daylight with witnesses around? Besides, in her current emotional state, she would probably attack him, instead.

Frustration and exhaustion fueling her confidence, Ashe reapplied her sunglasses and headed up to the fourth floor. After a quick stop in the public restrooms, she stepped out of the exterior door into warm sunlight. Yesterday's rain seemed a pale memory in the gorgeous weather. She took a deep, reverent breath of sea air and crossed to the railing where Jack had cornered her the first day of the cruise.

Pushing back painful memories of how Jack had duped her, Ashe closed her eyes and let the sound of the sea soothe her, then opened them to scan the sunny horizon. A few islands dotted the endless blue in the distance like giant sea turtles surfacing. It reminded her of the British Columbia coast where she had grown up. Good memories and bad.

She didn't know how long she just stood there at the railing, but she didn't even jump when she felt a presence next to her. He leaned against the railing beside her, just as he had the first day.

"What're you thinking, Ashe?"

She paused, considering.

"Nothing. That's the best part."

"Hmmm."

Strangely enough, Ashe wasn't panicking. She wasn't getting the insane adrenaline rush she had expected. She was resigned, and ready for anything he threw at her. At least while she was still entranced by the motion of the water.

"So," he began, thrusting his hands into his pockets and turning to look at her, "How 'bout you tell me just what the fuck you are?"

Not taking her eyes from the horizon, Ashe smiled at his question.

"Eloquently phrased," she commented before finally taking her eyes from the still water. And wished she hadn't.

His eyes were like icy whirlpools, cold and depthless, sucking in her gaze and pulling it downward. The panic set in now, and the realization that they were very alone on the deck.

"Y'know, Ashe, you've sorely underestimated me. The whole basis of my power is the ability to persuade, to get inside someone's mind and make them do what I want them to. I can also track a person by the feel of their mind, and yours sticks out like a beacon among these normal people.

"I've been tailing you all morning, you know, and you never even noticed. I wanted to wait till you came out here. I knew you'd crack eventually. And you did. It was nothing at all to 'convince' the people out here to go back inside, so we're completely alone. And it'll stay that way, so don't bother screaming. If someone hears you, they'll think it was the wind. Now answer my goddamned question: What the fuck are you?"

Jack used the exact words Epps had but days ago without even thinking.

Ashe's hopes dimmed as she realized she had lost again. He had been playing with her the whole time, laughing as she tried to disguise herself physically while all the while he was keeping tabs on her mentally. He was a pro, and she was just an amateur. There was no way she could best him.

'Face it Ashe,' she berated herself, 'You're a screw-up, and these people are doomed.'

He had boxed her in without her noticing, her back now pressed flush to the railing. One of his hands rested on each side of her as he leaned in, a menacing look on his handsome face. Not daring to recall the last time they had been in such a position, Ashe swallowed hard and took a deep breath. The smell of the salt air calmed her nerves more than she thought possible, causing her to grin inwardly.

Jack thought he had cornered her with her weak spot; little did he know that this was where she was strongest.

"Answer me!" he yelled.

Ashe smiled, finding it easier to be brave than she had thought. The sound of the waves hitting the ship's hull and the cry of a lost seagull filled her ears, fueling her courage.

She put her hands on his shoulders and before he could notice the change in her, she had pushed him far enough away from her that she could duck out of his reach.

"Y'know what, Jack?" she asked, trying for a mocking tone but getting only a shaking croak, "How about you answer a question for me? Like what have you done with Murphy?"

Jack smirked, his cold blue eyes laughing at her.

"How cute," he sneered, "She thinks she's tough. Well, I guess since you tried so hard, I'll answer you. Your dear old man is gone. Gone for good. He's left you, for the second time, all because of your meddling self. If it weren't for you, he wouldn't have fought as hard and he'd still be around. Still feeling brave, Ashe?"

"No." Not an answer, but a denial. He was lying. He had to be lying. Ashe stood for a moment in shock before something, a dam within her, finally burst. She was filled, not with fear, but with an icy rage. It swept over her, sharpening her vision to knife-edged clarity and dulling the aches in her muscles.

Suddenly, she wasn't afraid anymore. Not of people, not of death, and definitely not of Jack. Her whole life, she had never gotten angry. She hadn't been angry at her father for leaving her and her mother alone. She hadn't been angry at her mother for never being home, for never giving her the love she needed. She had never gotten angry at the kids on the playground that had laughed at her because she was poor, because she was ugly. She had never been angry at the boys who had used her, who had rid her of her innocence like it was a game.

She had never gotten truly angry. Instead, she had blamed herself, driven herself to the limit to distance her from the rest of humanity. She had used fear to mask her rage, to protect her from what might happen if that rage were ever unleashed.

Guilty of Restraint. She had restrained her anger, her rage at the injustice of the world. She had restrained herself, running scared from her problems instead of facing them down. That had been her mistake, and that was why she had this second chance. Well, she wasn't going to waste it. Not anymore.

All the rage that had built up inside her since she was born now fled its restraints and focused upon a single target: Jack.

"No!" she screamed, and lunged herself at Jack. His eyes widened in surprise, and before he could dodge she went flying into him, tackling him to the deck with a scream of primal rage.

She wasn't afraid anymore. And she wasn't going to run. She was going to fight, and she was going to win.


End file.
